


It Takes Two

by cakeisnotpie



Series: Clint and Bruce (Hulkeye) [8]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Character Death Fix, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, not all is what is seems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:09:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a mysterious force makes Bruce's greatest wish come true -- but at a heavy price -- Clint learns that what happened with Loki may not be the worst thing he's ever experienced. Steve and Tony deal with the fallout and their own budding relationship as a mysterious newcomer may or may not be working to help them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breaking Up is Hard to Do

**Author's Note:**

> The story so far: Dating hasn’t been easy for Clint Barton and Bruce Banner. First, one of Bruce’s old friends, Monica Rappacini, comes up with a neural inhibitor to sedate the Hulk, hoping to convince Bruce to join A.I.M. and help take over the world. Then Loki and the Enchantress got involved, outing the couple, trying to tear the Avengers apart by convincing them that Clint was going crazy. Working with Monica, who had created a reverse inhibitor that forced Bruce to hulk out, they were only foiled by the whole team working together. Unfortunately, Carol Danvers, one of Bruce’s fellow scientists, was caught in an explosion and exposed to numerous chemicals; she is currently in an induced coma in a facility in Pennsylvania. During a weekend in Las Vegas, Clint, Bruce, Steve, and Tony were dosed with nanotech by HYDRA and almost killed by a crazy Power Ranger supervillain want-to-be.
> 
> For more, read the series from the beginning.

“Four more. Behind you.” Clint called through the comm to Tony. “They’re coming up through the sewer grate.”

“Damn, it’s like smell-o-vision down here. Jarvis, adjust the filters to compensate.” Tony blasted two of the strange fishlike creatures. “Hulk doesn’t seem to mind. Be sure to make him hose down before you kiss him, Kili.”

The Hulk was enjoying himself, Clint could see; he’d waded right into the middle of the group … school? ... of slimy monsters and was ripping into them with glee.  The new nasties had popped up near the river, crawling out of the muck to attack. Fishmen with claws and pointy teeth; Clint’s world had gotten really weird, well even weirder than usual. One day back from Vegas and here they were, dealing with some villain who called himself Mr. Fish … really? Mr. Fish? … and his army of stinky whatchamacallits.

“Got some people trapped in the coffee shop on the corner.” From his vantage point, Clint had a good overview of the battle; the biggest problem was that more of the monsters kept oozing up, two for everyone they cut down.  

“I have them,” Thor responded; one swing of his hammer exploded three at one, sending the gooey innards splattering onto the window and street. The others slunk away from Thor’s onslaught, and the Big Guy made serious inroads through the largest crowd that surrounded Mr. Fish.

“You got a shot, Hawkeye?” Tony asked.

“Working on it. For someone with a terrible name, this guy knows how to stay out of line of sight.”  The guy – some sort of strange human/fish hybrid that bubbled and shouted how no one could laugh at him – finally showed himself and Clint let fly, arrow driving right into the man’s shoulder, or dorsal fin, Clint didn’t know which one, but it served the purpose to disrupt his concentration. “He’s down.”

Capturing the fish dude meant the rest of the op was pure cleanup; he’d controlled the creatures and most of them slipped back into the depths they came from. Only a few stayed to be gutted by the Hulk, who chased them down back alleys and pounded them into sludge. Clint was actually glad his first post-suspension Avenger outing went so smoothly.  Tony and Steve had gone out on a limb for him, basically insisting he was an integral part of the team; Tony had gone so far as to suggest that the Avengers were contingent on Hawkeye’s participation. So the fact that things had gone swimmingly … oh, he’d have to use that one with later … helped make their argument to Fury even stronger.

“Tell you what, no fish for dinner, okay?” Clint suggested as he packed up his bow. “I’m thinking steak and potatoes.”

 Clint took the stairs back down as the cleanup was under way. He needed to give Tony shit about getting him his own jetpack.  Riding with Thor or Tony got old after a while – and the Hulk was having too much fun squishing around down there to bother – so Clint made his own way out into the street.  The smell was even more intense, briny and day-old seafood left out in the sun; Clint winkled his nose, wondering again how Natasha always seemed to miss the messy action.

“Excellent shot,” Thor nodded as Clint approached; Tony came in for a landing nearby. “He was the mastermind; with him down, the fight was over.”

Tony flipped up his faceplate “Mr. Fish? Really? Couldn’t come up with a better name than that? Sounds more like a fast food restaurant than a villain. Good god, what a stench.”

“What a lovely smell you’ve discovered, your highness,” Clint laughed, his good mood infectious; Tony grinned back, always willing to enter into the on-going battle of the best Han Solo.

“Don’t get cocky, kid,” Tony shot back.  

“Tony is royalty?” Thor asked, confused by the conversation.

“ _Star Wars_. Best movie ever.” Clint supplied. “We’ll watch it Thursday. You can’t understand American culture if you don’t know the Force, dude.”

“Hulk like Chewie.” The Big Guy never snuck up on anyone, especially not when he reeked to high heavens, blue blood and guts still clinging to his green skin.

“Oh, man, stand down wind, would you?” Tony clanged his faceplate closed as the Hulk’s smell wafted over him.

“Hey, Big Guy, wash that stuff off, okay, and we’ll watch _Tangled_ again.” Clint could feel his eyes start to water and his throat close up, but he saw the Hulk’s look at Tony’s words. Yes, it was possible to hurt the Big Guy’s feelings, but he smiled at Clint’s offer. A hydrant down the block had been knocked open, sending a geyser of water into the air, and he ducked into the stream, rinsing himself off.

 “ _Tangled_?” Tony was incredulous. “A princess movie?”

“He likes the horse,” Clint said to shut him up. It was true; Hulk couldn’t get enough of Maximus.

Suddenly, a glowing sphere of energy manifested in the street, edge almost brushing the building on either side, neatly bisected in the middle by the concrete roadway.  Little tendrils of gold and red curled out like mist, tiny static discharges jumping to signs, lampposts, anything metal.  One even tickled Tony’s suit, and he brushed it off.

“What the hell?” Tony lifted off the ground as Clint notched an arrow. “Some sort of unknown energy signature; Jarvis doesn’t recognize it.”

“I have not seen such a thing before,” Thor cautiously approached.  The circle stayed steady, neither moving nor changing in size. “Could this be from Fishman’s magic?”

Trapped on the other side of the circle, Hulk roared, rushing right towards it.

“Hulk, wait,” Tony began, but the Big Guy was already crossing the sparkling membrane, charging right through and out the other side. With a pop, the sphere dissipated, shimmering out of focus then fading from sight. Hulk growled and turned; there was nothing there anymore but the fish guts and body parts on the asphalt and sidewalk.

“That was weird.” Clint lowered his bow; the Big Guy appeared to be fine. “You get enough readings to make anything out of it?”

“I’ll get Jarvis on it, and Bruce can check it out once he’s back, see if it’s related to the Gordon Fisherman over there.”

* * *

 

When Tony had offered Bruce space in his labs, he had no real idea of the scope of what he’d started. Now, the beacon of sustainable energy, Stark Tower, was almost unrecognizable from its original plans. Bruce in residence meant the Hulk as well; while he hadn’t thought through that too carefully, Tony had quickly realized modifications were necessary. Human size doors, for example, had to be widened and heightened, reinforced balconies for the Big Guy to land on, a heavy-duty construction elevator capable of handling the weight load – all had to be redesigned and retrofitted. When Steve moved in, gym space expanded, and then Clint and Natasha, and Clint started dating Bruce and the Hulk was around a lot more, watching TV and joining team practices. State-of-the-art facilities, a quinnjet hanger, underground labs … there were always something changing in what was now called Avengers Tower.

The Hulk’s space was one of the old practice rooms; after the last redesign, Tony had shifted the large space with sliding doors into a playroom for a big green kid. A massive TV with a seemingly endless array of channels – twelve cartoon ones alone – filled the space along with large sprawling furniture that supported his weight, a bathroom with a shower big enough for seven people, and an array of video games the likes of which any gamer geek would have an orgasm over. Jarvis kept the fridge and cabinets stocked, an impressive feat considering how much the Hulk could eat in one sitting.

Clint had left the Big Guy crashed on the couch with four bags of chips, Rapunzel swinging her frying pan at Flynn’s head on the screen, Spongebob in the queue in case the meeting ran long; if, Bruce reappeared before Clint was done, he’d probably end up in the lab working on the sphere data. Maria Hill had very graciously given them time to clean up before the debrief – she’d taken one whiff and sent them away with a wave of her hand.  Actually he’d been glad to put it off; he hadn’t seen Maria since she’d suspended him in the very room he was heading for now. Maybe if he was lucky, he could piss her off again. Yeah, that would be fun.

“How’s the green princess doing?” Tony asked as he joined Clint in the hall. “Should I get him a tiara?”

“He’s eating you out of house and home at the moment, so maybe stock in Frito-lays would be better,” Clint laughed. “Or better yet, genius, figure out how to make the chips and dip work out even.”

“Oh, man, if I could do that, then I could buy another island.” Tony laughed. “That’s even more complex than restaurant math.”

“Another island? Wait, do you have one already?” Damn, the man was holding out on them. Visions of white beaches, an ever full glass of Sex on the Beach, and a week with nothing to do but hang with Bruce danced in his brain.

“No way, Barton. Not going to happen,” Tony wagged a finger at him as they entered the room. “No hulk sex on my beach, dude.”

“Gentlemen, please.” Maria winkled her nose. “I really don’t need to know about your extra-curricular activities. Any of you.”

“Well there goes the personal sex video for your birthday. Way to spoil the surprise.” Tony strolled to his chair, sitting down just as Thor came in.

“We are talking about sex? Excellent! I have a story about the time that Sif and the Warriors Three went to Elfheim …”

“And when is Steve getting back?” Maria as she sank down in her chair and put her head in her hands. Clint almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

_“Joshua Ledbetter, get over here and finish this ice cream you begged for.” Amelia was at the end of her rope with the six-year-old. Balancing her youngest on her hip, she called for her son again, his attention riveted on the steel drum band playing just down the sidewalk. “Josh. Come here.”_

_The pop was soft, buried underneath the music, but the boy turned his head, cocking an ear as if he could hear.  Small, no bigger than a pea, the circle appeared, floating at the height of the boy’s head, slowly growing larger. Fascinated, Joshua stared at the iridescent colors, reaching a hand out as a tendril wafted towards him; his mother, suddenly aware of what was happening, jerked him back, moving them all away from the edge. As it grew, the bottom dropped below the pavement, the sphere covering the whole pathway, eating up a section of grass where a couple abandoned their picnic basket until it finally stopped halfway through the bench Amelia had been sitting on, forgotten ice cream melting on the green slats._

 

“And we have nothing about the anomalous sphere?” Maria asked. She’d been all business, as usual, no mention of anything that had happened last time. Clint shared a quick glance with Tony, who’d long since lost any interest in the proceedings.

“Um, no, because I’m here, stuck in this meeting, rather than being in the lab. Once we get out of here and get Bruce back, we’ll work on it.”  Tony’s fingers never quit dancing over his tablet screen as he was talking, taking the art of multi-tasking to a new level. Or just pretty much ignoring Hill.

“Any educated guesses?” Maria pressed on. “Magic or science?”

“It was nothing that I have ever seen before,” Thor offered, but even he was losing what little patience he had to start with. How the hell were they supposed to know what that thing was? They’d had no time to investigate. “But I do not know magic well.”

“Forgive my interruption, Assistant Director, but we have a situation developing,” Jarvis’s voice was a welcome distraction.

“What is it Jarvis?” Tony seemed just as relieved as Clint felt.

“The Hulk is undergoing some sort of distress. His heart rate is elevated and he appears to be in some pain.”

All three of the men were on their feet; Clint beat the other two to the door because he didn’t bother to nod to Hill or say excuse me like Tony and Thor. In a flash, he was headed down the corridor for the elevator to the Hulk’s room.

 

_“What the hell is this?” Officer Pete Mahoney wondered aloud. Weird shit was happening all over New York City; ever since that alien invasion it just seemed that life got stranger every day. Floating ball of … something … mist? … cloud … who the hell knew? … right in the middle of Central Park. “Somebody put a call into the Avengers or SHIELD? This looks like their cup of tea to me.”_

_“Yeah, Bob told dispatch to contact ‘em. We’re just supposed to watch it and not let anyone touch it. I mean, really, what idiot would go touching something like that?” His partner, Roger Wells, hooked his thumbs onto his belt as he looked around._

_“Damn kids or junkies or one of those hipsters takin’ pictures, maybe.” Mahoney shrugged. Standing guard was boring, but hey, it could have been a lot worse. “There’s all kinds in the world.”_

_The sphere flexed, a ripple running clockwise around its circumference; blue chased red then gold then silver, like one of those kaleidoscopes Mahoney had as a kid. Expanding then contracting, little arcs of static electricity jumped from the surface to metal, one connecting to Wells’ gun with a crackle and sizzle. He fell back on his ass, lucky that his rubber soled shoes grounded him._

_“Roger? You okay?” When his friend nodded, Mahoney took charge of the situation. “Everyone! Clear out! Get away from the sphere!”_

_“Pete.” Wells pointed and Mahoney turned to see the sphere start to dissipate, falling like a curtain from the top down, energy sinking into the earth below with a final few electrical discharges. Lying in the middle of pathway was a naked man, face down, steam rising from his warm body in the cool autumn air. His dark hair curled around his face and for a few seconds, Mahoney hesitated, unsure of what to do. Then the man moaned and tried to push up; crossing the few steps, Mahoney dropped to his knee beside the guy who looked up at him with confused brown eyes._

_“You okay, buddy?” he asked. Guy could be an alien or something, but, hey, it was his job to help the citizenry, right?_

_Dazed, the man glanced around, realized his state of undress and carefully covered his crotch with his hands as he sat up, curling in on himself to try to hide from the staring eyes. “Where am I?” his voice was scratchy, and he coughed to clear his throat._

_“Central Park. New York City.” Well, Mahoney thought, he speaks English, so that was good._

_“You got a phone I can use?” The man asked._

_“EMTs have been called, and we’ll get this all straightened out, okay?” That answer only seemed to make the man more determined._

_“Look, call Tony Stark. I can give you his private number.” The man insisted. Stark? Damn. So this was an Avenger sort of thing._

_“The Avengers are already alerted,” Mahoney assured him._

_“Call Tony. Tell him Bruce needs a pick up.”_

“Come on, Big Guy, calm down and tell me what’s wrong.” Clint watched as the Hulk shivered, curled into a massive green ball of body in the corner; furniture was askew, the bedding torn apart, chips scattered around the floor.  He managed to get close enough, telegraphing each slow movement, and he laid a hand on the large bicep, circling his fingers in a soothing motion.

“Can’t, can’t, can’t … alone. All alone.” Clint didn’t think he’d ever seen the Hulk cry, but the tremulous voice suggested he might see it soon.

“You’re not alone. I’m here.” Taking one more step, Clint could ruffle the brown hair. “Come on, Jade Jaws. Tell me what’s up.”

“Not here.” He lifted his head, sniffling as his brown eyes focused on Clint. “Tried. You need the little guy, but can’t.”

“It’s okay, buddy, take your time. We can wait on the Doc for a while longer.”  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony and Thor flanking him, taking opposite sides just in case. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No.” The Hulk’s head surged up; the others started, but Clint stayed calm. “Little guy NOT HERE.”

Clint blinked at that. “Bruce isn’t there?” What the hell did that mean? It wasn’t like Bruce could take a vacation and leave the Hulk.

“NOT HERE,” the Hulk repeated, his voice rising. “Gone. Just Hulk.” He slammed a fist into the floor; everything rattled and jumped as the force rippled across the room.

“Damn,” Tony muttered. “If that’s true …”

“The sphere?” Thor questioned.

“Gentlemen, I believe I can offer some information to shed light on the situation.” Maria spoke from just inside the door. “Shield agents just picked up a naked man who appeared in a … quote … ‘bubble-like sphere’ … in central park. He says he’s Dr. Bruce Banner and is in route here even as we speak.”

Clint stood, stunned, reaching a hand to touch the Big Guy’s reassuringly warm green skin; too many possibilities scrambled for prominence in his brain.  Neural inhibitors, alien copies, the Enchantress’ magic … in the world of weird that was his life there were, unfortunately, too many plausible explanations.

“Little guy? Need little guy.” The Hulk was getting agitated again, fists clenching as he grew more frustrated.

“Take it easy, Big Guy. I’ll go get him, okay?” Clint patted the massive arm. “Promise. You just wait here. We’ll figure this out.”

“I will stay with the Green Warrior,” Thor offered. “We have yet to help Master Chief complete his quest to defeat the Composer.”

“Cupid come back?” Hulk was worried, and Clint gave him his most confident smile.

“Absolutely. We’ve got to show Thor _Star Wars_ , remember?” He said, despite the spiral of foreboding tightening in his chest. With a nod of thanks to Thor, he followed Maria and Tony out of the room.

* * *

 

“That’s the second time today, Dr. Lawson,” the nurse explained as the doctor walked around the comatose body, checking the various machines and readings. “Both patients showed increased heart rates and brainwave activity. There was a spike in their gamma output as well. Patient 432042 appeared to start to rouse during the last event, but Dr. Danvers did not.”

The doctor reached a hand down and lightly touched Carol’s forehead, brushing his fingers across her skin and tucking back a stray blonde hair. “There were no experiments or other variables to account for the spikes?”

“No, sir. Nothing here.”

“Order a new round of testing for both patients; I want to see if there have been any changes in their conditions. Also, I’ll need all information from the moments before, during, and after the events; please forward those to my laboratory as soon as possible.”

The nurse heard the dismissal in his voice and left the room quickly. Walter half-smiled at her haste; he knew that the staff here wondered about him, why a scientist of his caliber was so interested in these patients and who had pulled the strings to get him access. None of that mattered; things were unfolding far too quickly and a sense of urgency drove him. He needed to understand what was happening here on Earth and these two people … along with another handful in New York City … were at the very epicenter of it all.  Already, pieces were in play. He just hoped he wasn’t too late to help.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I had this dream about you last night. We were on a beach, one of those perfect ones with white sand and amazing blue sea, talking about all the places we wanted to go together,” Clint said. “Just because you want something so badly doesn’t mean that it’s not real when it happens. Don’t go looking for trouble, Bruce; the way our lives go, trouble will find us on its own. We’ll figure it out. Until then, as long as you don’t shoot lasers out of your eyes, crave brains, or turn to snow, we’ll just deal, okay?”
> 
> “You’ve been listening during your psych visits again, haven’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter went longer than I thought it would. Lots of lovely Hulk/Clint and Clint/Bruce interactions.

Clint paced the small viewing room, unable to sit still for more than a minute at a time. Ever since they’d brought Bruce in and put him in isolation, Clint felt a manic energy; if he stopped moving, he thought he might just burst right out of his skin. Worry mixed with confusion mixed with a strange sense of foreboding; he desperately wanted five minutes alone to talk to Bruce, to assure himself that the doc was really the doc, to touch him and kiss him once for good measure.

“Stop pacing,” Bruce said, his voice coming through the speaker; he was calm, reclining on the hospital bed, reading some lab reports. “We’re run every test we can think of. Aside from some high radiation readings, I’m fine.”

The two technicians looked at Clint then turned back to their monitors. Tony laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, but Clint shrugged it off. “I know that. It’s just weird, okay? Standing here talking to you when I know the Big Guy is just a few floors away playing Halo with Thor.”

“Definitely not a normal day, but then what is normal for us?” Bruce laughed, but sobered as he looked over the latest data. “Gamma is still spiking randomly, but they’re getting further apart. That’s a good sign.” Clint always marveled at the way Bruce could so calmly talk about himself and his ‘condition’ as he called it. Even now, when things were so screwed up, Bruce could look over results and be completely objective.

“Look at the DNA comparison,” Tony suggested; Bruce flipped through the papers in his hands, pulling out the one he wanted.

“Well, damn.” He sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed.

“What?” Clint asked. He usually didn’t mind when Tony and Bruce talked science, tuning them out and only listening to half of what they said. But now he wanted to know everything.

“Well, according to the DNA scan, I’m not Bruce Banner. At least not the same one who had blood work done last week.” Bruce seemed unfazed by the information. “Jarvis, rerun the scan with baseline sample 10121981.”

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Tony asked. Clint huffed in frustration.

“Will someone fill in the thickie twin here? What the hell is going on?” Clint demanded, his patience starting to wear thin.

“My DNA was altered during my exposure to the gamma radiation.” Bruce explained. “I keep baseline DNA from before the accident for experimentation and to track the degradation.”

“Wait. You think the change in your DNA is because …” Clint began.

“I have a preliminary report,” Jarvis said. “Compatibility between samples is 99.9%.”

“Oh, my god.” Clint sat down in one of the chairs, eyes wide at the implication. “You’ve gone back to the way you were before.”

“Seems the Other Guy was right. I’m not the Hulk anymore.”

* * *

 

_The party was in full swing, the room in motion as people twirled, some in Asgardian finery, others in SHIELD uniforms, still more in the everyday outfits of people on New York streets. Beautiful swirls of color, he didn’t notice at first the blood, the grey dust, the glassy eyes of the dead, just saw the poetry of the dance, the harmony of movements. There’s Volstagg, laughing, mug in his hand, gaping hole in his chest where his heart should be. Maria Hill, face set in disapproval, red rivulets chasing down the side of her face from a bullet wound. Jennifer, the girl from the coffee shop with the best mocha latte in the city, her khakis and green polo shirt clean and crisp except for the slash across her stomach, her intestines spilling out. And Tony, full Iron Man suit gleaming, his head piece ripped away, revealing a massive wound._

_“I am glad you are doing well.” The man stepped up behind, too close, an invasion of personal space that sent frissons of fear dancing along his spine. Glancing down, he saw the purple shirt, the black leather pants, felt the ache of the bruising, the pain of tight restraints on his wrists. The world tilted, time changed and he could see the shift from marvelous to macabre. A hand on his shoulder, bearing down, a crippling hold. “I have missed your humor, Clint. Did you miss me?”_

“Clint? Hey,” Tony shook him, and Clint jumped, tearing away from Stark’s hand; his chest was heaving and, for one second, he could see the matted blood in Tony’s hair, hear Loki’s voice in his ear before he remembered where he was.

“Shit, Tony. Don’t do that.” Clint had automatically put his back in the corner, drawn the knife he kept in his boot, and was in a protective stance. “You know better than to wake me up like that.”

“Dude, you are wound tight! Good god, go get some real sleep before you fall over,” Tony ordered in a concerned voice. “You’ve been here all evening. I’ll sit and watch Bruce … that’s a really creepy statement out of context, isn’t it? Look, he’s human, we know that for sure. At this point all we can do is wait it out. Anyway, the Big Guy’s asking for you. Seems you promised him you’d come back.”

“Yeah, I did.” He ran a hand over his face, wiping away the last vestiges of the odd dream. “Call me if Bruce needs me.”

“You bet, lover boy. Oh, that’s right. Now you’ve got two boyfriends. Think the Hulk will share?” Tony nudged Clint, telegraphing his movements just to be safe, and winked.

“He already was, so no difference.” Clint shot back, but he was unnerved by the return of that damn voice; he’d been free from the dreams ever since they’d sent Loki packing the last time. Why were they back now? Probably just the stress of the whole Bruce isn’t the Hulk thing. He let himself stew over the dream the whole way back to the Hulk’s room and then shoved it into his ‘things to freak out about later’ closet as he entered.

“Cupid!” The Hulk bounced up from his seat on the floor, dropping the game controller. From Thor’s look, Jolly Green was beating him soundly. “Little guy okay?”

“Indeed!” Clint said with a smile he didn’t exactly feel. “He’s sleeping right now. They’ve got him in observation overnight just to be sure, but he should be out and about tomorrow morning. He promised to come see you.”

“See little guy?” The Hulk scrunched up his face at the thought of seeing Bruce. “Feels weird.”

“I know. Feels strange to me too.” Clint clapped Thor on the shoulder. “Thanks for sticking around all evening.”

“It was no problem. We fought and ate and drank sugary drinks, and I think it will be a long while before I sleep.” Thor laughed. “A good time in all. So, Bruce is … alright?”

Clint understood what Thor was asking without saying. “As far as we know. He had lab reports and was already working out the hows and whys before he fell asleep. There are some high gamma readings, but those are dropping, probably an aftereffect of the bubble.”

“Ah, yes, I plan to travel to Asgard on the morrow to speak to people who understand magic. They might be able to help us determine what those things were.”

“That would be great.” Clint couldn’t stop the yawn that almost split his face.

“I will leave you to get some sleep. The Green Warrior will be glad you are here. We shall take up the challenge again later!”

As Thor left, the Hulk eyed Clint. “Cupid need sleep. Hulk sleep too. Feel better now.” He ambled over to the bigger-than-king sized bed and crawled in; Tony had the mattress, springs, and frame specially designed to hold the Hulk’s weight. Patting a big hand on empty space beside him, Hulk said, “Cupid sleep. Hulk protect.”

“You asking me to sleep with you, Big Guy?” Clint smirked at that.

“Cupid sleep with Little Guy. Cupid sleep with Hulk. Same thing.” The Hulk paused. “Was same thing. Still same thing?” That last question was plaintive, the sound of a lost child who thought something was being taken away from him.

“Still same thing.” Clint agreed. He stopped to take off his boots and remove his belt before he slipped under the covers. The bed had plenty of room for them both. “Just don’t squish me in the middle of the night, okay?”

Rolling onto his side, the Hulk reached one hand and carefully spooned Clint up, not snuggling too close, but close enough that Clint could feel the body heat and the Hulk could rest his hand on the bed in front of Clint. “No smash Cupid, silly. Hulk like Cupid.”

“Yeah, buddy. I know.” Clint closed his eyes and let himself drift off into sleep before the Hulk’s snores could start, hoping the earlier dream was an anomaly.

* * *

 

Walter Lawson stared at the numbers scrolling across his screen. His own sensors counted five events of varying degrees. The biggest were the two centered in New York City – the ones the rather primitive machinery at the facility picked up -- a smaller one in a state called Arizona, one in the Urals of Russia, and another off world, a few clicks out of geosynchronous orbit. Like weather vanes, the two patients -- he indulged himself to call them by their names, Carol and Phil – reacted to each increase in radiation level. Phil’s case was more simplistic; his exposure had been limited to just the gamma spectrum so he was struggling out of his coma, each new bump speeding up his mental processes. But Carol was much more complex; the individual chemicals and different isotopes that had bombarded her body had interacted, mixing into unknown combinations.

“Doctor?” The night nurse … Janine … stopped in the doorway, concern on her face. “The patients are restless. Just like before.”

“Before? There is nothing in the reports about restlessness,” he said sharply, and the woman shrank back a little. He tempered his voice before he continued. “I am sorry; I did not mean to snap. I have been looking at this numbers too long, I guess. Please, tell me what you suspect.”

“I … I think they’re responding to external stimulus, something the machines don’t always pick up on. Like how animals recognize a coming earthquake long before a seismograph begins to measure tremors.” She ground to a halt, unsure.

“Very observant. I would like to you start charting these movements. Have the other shifts do the same. Let’s see if there’s any pattern.”  He tapped a few times on his tablet, set new parameters on his own sensors, and followed the nurse down the hallway to Phil’s room. Lawson immediately noticed the slight jerks of Phil’s fingers, flexing and relaxing, forefinger bending at the joints; the man looked like he was trying to hold something. Darting back and forth, his eyes shifted beneath his lids as if dreaming.

The shrill alarm made Janine jump; Phil’s heart rate shot up, blood pressure rising, chest heaved as he tried to drag in deep breaths. Hands clenched into the blanket as his head turned side-to-side, ripping off monitor leads, causing more sounds from the machines around him. Lids flew up and eyes searched the room, landing on Lawson who had stepped to the edge of the bed.

“Where?” The word was dusty and harsh, Phil’s voice too long unused.

“Hospital. You were wounded, but you’re going to be okay. Take it easy.” Taking Phil’s hand, Lawson stroked his fingers over the cool skin, calming the man. Outside the doorway, staff were running, some towards this room, others towards Carol’s.

“When?” Phil blinked, lids dragging down, his body beginning to settle.

“Almost sixteen months.” Even as Lawson answered the question, he knew the man was sinking back into a coma; the hand slackened in his as Phil closed his eyes again. Heart rhythm regulated, and Janine stopped the other alarms and started to reattach the leads.

“Damn.” Lawson murmured. He’d have to check the camera footage from Carol’s room but he knew she’d been affected as well. There’d been another one, this one more powerful than the others. “From now on, Janine, you’re to work with these two patients only. I want all the observational data I can get. Consider this a promotion.”

* * *

                                                                 

_“You’ll turn into a lobster if you don’t get out of the sun soon.”_

_Clint squinted over the top of his sunglasses, enjoying the chance to ogle Bruce’s body as they sat in their lounge chairs; white sand stretched as far as he could see, just the small open-air villa behind them and the brilliant blue sea in front of them, not another soul in sight._

_“That’s why they invented waterproof sunscreen. I’m going to just lay here and enjoy the fact that I’m not going to go green. Just you me and as many Mai Tais as I can drink.” Bruce sighed. “Might even get drunk.”_

_“We going to stay here forever then?” Clint couldn’t find any reason to complain nor any reason they shouldn’t do just that, so he just settled down into the cushions._

_“Not forever. There’s Paris and Rio for Carnivale and Cape Horn and Bora Bora. Lots of places on my list.” A cloud scuttled over the sun, casting a shadow for a moment before passing; Bruce easily swung up out of his chair, shifting over to Clint’s, pushing legs aside to make room to sit._

_“Sounds like a plan.” Clint waited through the pause as Bruce leaned to close the distance between them._

_“You coming with me?” Hands skimmed up Clint’s legs, stopping at his waist. Clint stirred, started to harden, just from the proximity of Bruce’s body._

_“Damn straight. But we add Istanbul. Never got to see inside the Haggia Sophia.”_

_Bruce took his time, heat of the sun nowhere near the slow burn of Bruce’s lips as they slanted across Clint’s, the taste of coconut and rum passing between them. Waves rose and broke, water rushing across the sand as the kiss deepened._

_Bruce growled and Clint jerked back; eyes gone green, body changing, he groaned, a heartrending sound in the brightness._

Clint came awake to the sound of the Hulk’s heavy breathing and painful whimpers; the sheets were twisted and damp with sweat as the Big Guy fidgeted, uncomfortable.  His eyes were closed, but Clint could see the clench to the massive jaw, feel the tension in his body. Caught in a bad dream, the Hulk shivered then jerked his legs, rolling onto his side and curling into a fetal position.

Sitting up, Clint glanced at the clock; he managed a good six hours of sleep, but it was very early. Bruce would still be in lock down, and the others probably sleeping. Best thing would be to handle this himself, but waking the Hulk from a nightmare wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, especially without back up.  Of course, Clint didn’t think the Hulk would actually hurt him … but thrashing around while out of it meant flying fists and very strong legs. So he climbed out of bed and stood a good few feet away before he dared say anything.

“Hey Big Guy. Wake up. You’re dreaming,” he tried, but his voice didn’t make any difference as the Hulk began to shake, the whole metal frame vibrating with him. Clint raised his voice and tried again. “Hey Big Guy. Wake up!”

The Hulk groaned and bucked off the bed, clearly dreaming of something painful; he grimaced and ground his clenched teeth.

“Jarvis, can you play ‘Peaceful, easy feeling’ for me? Loud, please.” It was a good try – one of the Hulk’s favorite soothing songs – but even at what Clint thought of as a deafening volume, the Hulk was still trapped in the dream.

“Okay, let’s try something more annoying. How about Tony’s kick-some-ass playlist? Shake the walls with it?” The opening guitar riff of “Back in Black” started, so loud that Clint was sure everyone else in the building could hear it and would be banging down the door any second. The Hulk’s eyes immediately shot open, and he sat up with a roar that drowned out the first few lines of lyrics. “That will do. Thanks, Jarvis.”

“My pleasure to help, sir.”

“Hulk does not like!” Clearly agitated, the Big Guy pounded his fists on the bed, and Clint could swear he heard the metal creaked ominously.

“I know you don’t. But you were having a nightmare, and I had to get you to wake up.” Clint kneeled on the bed and put his hand on the Hulk’s shoulder; the Big Guy liked to be stroked and petted, so he ran his hands down the massive arm, patting the clenched fist before he went back up, keeping it slow and easy.  “You looked like you were really hurting there, Jade Jaws.”

“Dream bad.” The Hulk squinted, obviously trying to remember. “Puny God and Mean Bitch gave Hulk shots. Hurt. Got very angry.”

Clint translated in his head – the Hulk was dreaming about the time that Loki and Monica Rappacini tried to use a neural agitator to make the Hulk go wild. “I know, Big Guy. But you didn’t hurt anyone and we got you out.”

“Different. Hulk DID hurt Cupid. Smash out and hurt others. Little kids. Families.” He was shaking again; Clint stood, feet sinking into the foam of the mattress and put his hands on the big face, turning it towards him.

“You didn’t. You kept it under control, and the Mean Bitch is locked up where she can’t hurt you. It’s just a dream. Nothing more.” Clint gave him a kiss on the cheek, another quick one on the lips. “Best thing in the world after a bad dream? Got to the practice room and destroy something. Get all sweaty and tired and then take a nice long hot shower. Work it out.  I think Jarvis could whip up some new scenarios for you; I bet he’d even include a helicopter or two if we asked nicely, couldn’t you Jarvis?”

“Of course, sir.  Of any specific size or type you’d like.”

The Hulk thought about it for a minute, relaxing as he did, and Clint knew he had him when the Hulk kissed him back enthusiastically then bounded off the bed. “Breakfast first? Hulk hungry. Want waffles. With white foam from can and red syrup.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Clint reached for his boots and belt. “Sounds like a plan. I’m going to grab a shower and then check on the litt … Bruce. You can handle yourself?”

“Hulk not need babysitter!” He assured Clint. “Aye Eye help get food. Cupid go see little doctor. Tell him Hulk fine by himself.”

If that wasn’t an exit line, Clint had never heard one. “Will do, Big Guy. Will do.”

Despite the absurdly early hour, there were people in the hallway; the Hulk’s rooms were on a floor with practice areas and lab facilities. A tech glanced at Clint then immediately dropped his eyes, hurrying on his way; that, Clint thought, was how rumors got started. Tomorrow’s headline screamed in his mind: Hawk cheats on the Doc with the Big Guy! Or better yet: Hulk Sex! See details inside!  He laughed to himself; if he’d learned anything, it was that he no longer had a private life.

His room was just as he’d left it; he and Bruce had caught a movie and ended up in Bruce’s bed last night … no two nights ago. Even though their rooms were almost exactly the same size, Bruce’s faced west and had a balcony that caught sunset over the city; they often gravitated there on beautiful clear evenings. Clint’s room was quieter, and when Natasha was gone, they had the whole floor to themselves, so then they’d stay there. Or it might just depend upon who was working late or had to get up early. Silly really, he thought as he pulled off his shirt and tossed it into the hamper on his way into the bathroom; they should just admit it and pick one, or, better yet, pick a new suite and start fresh together. It would be easier all around. That is, of course, assuming Bruce was Bruce, and the Hulk was the Hulk and what if they stayed separate? Did that mean Clint was now in the middle of a threesome? He really should be thinking through all the possibilities, not worrying about asking Bruce to move in with him.

The shower was hot and fast; he was anxious to get back to down to check on Bruce, so he barely had time to start a good steam going on the mirror before he was out, rubbing his hair and tying the end of the towel as he wrapped it around his waist. As he reached for his razor, the knot slipped and he grabbed for it before it slipped off.

“You need a hand with that?” Bruce offered; he was leaning against the doorframe, shirt untucked, feet bare. “Unless, of course, you’re worried that I’m not really me.” And there was the elephant in the room. Even though they’d ruled out non-human or machine replacements, there were still lots of ways that the man standing in the doorway could not be his Bruce. Clint sighed; really, the only way to deal with this was to take it one step at a time.

“Oh, I was hoping for the alien shapeshifting magical robot. That’s pretty damn cool, you have to admit.” Clint smiled into the mirror; he knew Bruce would be overthinking the situation enough for both of them, assuming he was Bruce. And that was just too complex to get into, so Clint just decided to call him Bruce. He turned and stepped over to the dark haired man. Tilting his head, he squinted. “Klaatu Barada Nikto?”

“ _The Day the Earth Stood Still_?” Bruce laughed out loud. “So I’m Gort, am I?”

“I was going for _Army of Darkness_ and Bruce Campbell, but, hey, if the shoe fits …” Clint leaned in, bringing their lips closer together. “Or we can try the ‘do I know my lover’ quiz.”  He licked across Bruce’s lower lip, sucked on it lightly before he nipped it, knowing how that drove Bruce crazy; he got a the little intake of breath as Bruce parted his lips and sighed. He ran his tongue along Bruce’s jaw, circling his ear and sucking on the patch behind; Bruce’s hands touched Clint, roamed down to settle on his hips, as he groaned. God, he tasted like Bruce, felt like Bruce, even made that little whimpering sound just like Bruce.

“How am I doing so far?” Bruce asked.

“Damn fine.” Clint dragged his mouth along the muscle line of Bruce’s neck until he found the small hollow of the collarbone. His tongue dipped in and Bruce moaned, clenched his hands into Clint’s skin; as Clint caught the flesh between his teeth and bit down on the sensitive area, Bruce cursed.

“God, Clint,” Bruce’s voice was husky desire. “Going right for the kill, are you?”

“Well, hell, it is you. There goes my kinky alien sex.” Clint grinned as he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Sorry to disappoint. Odds are higher that I’m a clone or a magical construct with Bruce’s memories.” Clint could still sense Bruce’s hesitation.

“I had this dream about you last night. We were on a beach, one of those perfect ones with white sand and amazing blue sea, talking about all the places we wanted to go together,” Clint said. “Just because you want something so badly doesn’t mean that it’s not real when it happens. Don’t go looking for trouble, Bruce; the way our lives go, trouble will find us on its own. We’ll figure it out. Until then, as long as you don’t shoot lasers out of your eyes, crave brains, or turn to snow, we’ll just deal, okay?”

“You’ve been listening during your psych visits again, haven’t you?” Bruce dropped a kiss onto Clint’s smiling mouth. “I dreamt about you too. First, we were in the desert, in that tiny sleeping bag, and you were singing old Eagles’ songs. Then we were in this little bed and breakfast somewhere in New England; it was fall, beautiful leaves on the trees, and we were arguing about what to eat for dinner. We’d had lobster three nights in a row and you wanted Thai. I wanted sushi.”

“Yum. Thai. Let’s do curry tonight.” Arms snugly around Bruce’s waist, Clint rested his hands on the small of the other man’s back. “After we go see the Big Guy. He’s worried about you.”

“I expected that. Still going to be strange to actually see him.”                                     

“Excuse me, but there’s a situation and your presence has been requested in the briefing room.” Jarvis interrupted.

“Guess the second part of the test – the lower half -- is going to have to wait.” Clint nudged Bruce back and headed into the room to grab some clothes. He tossed on his uniform pants and the sleeveless undershirt that went beneath his vest before he pulled on his shoes. Bruce stood and watched him. “Grab some shoes so we can go.”

“Sorry, but I’m not an Avenger anymore. What could I do? Quote scientific theorems at them?” Bruce shook his head. “Besides, I’m on Tower arrest. They let me out of isolation, but I’m confined to certain floors. They don’t trust that I’m me, it seems.”

“Ah, hell, they don’t trust that I’m me either. But, yeah, you’re right. We have no use for someone who understands gamma and other types of radiation. That NEVER comes up; we NEVER need someone to do science.”  Clint was being sarcastic, and Bruce knew it.

“AD Hill specifically asked for you, Dr. Banner,” Jarvis supplied.

“See? What did I tell you?” Clint smirked; he was proud of himself for not saying I told you so.

* * *

 

Bruce hung back, leaning against the wall, leaving Clint, Tony and Thor to gather around the table. That is, until the Hulk came in, a pout on his face.

“Hulk not get to helicopter yet! Just started.” The Big Guy came to a stop when he saw Bruce; they stared at each other for a few seconds, and the silence grew awkward.

“Okay, here we go. Bruce Banner, Hulk. Hulk, Bruce Banner. Now play nice.” Clint introduced the two, putting himself between them. Tony just snapped pictures with his Stark phone. Tentatively, the Hulk reached a hand out, tangling one of Bruce’s curls around a massive finger, cocking his head to the side and studying the man.

“Little guy even smaller than I thought,” Hulk rumbled. Clint grinned and swallowed the laugh that bubbled up. “Cupid like little?”

Even Bruce chuckled at that one. “Yeah, I like Bruce,” Clint swatted the Hulk’s arm affectionately. “Now I think AD Hill is going to explode if we hold up the show any longer.”

“Oh, babe, you three are the e ticket attraction today, don’t worry,” Tony laughed. “Can’t wait to see the headlines when this gets out. Hey, maybe we should leak it ourselves, get ahead of the curve. It takes three! Or, I know, you and me and the Hulk makes three!”

“Mr. Stark,” Maria practically growled. “We have serious business to attend to if I can drag your attention, once again, away from sex.”

“Yeah, Tony, grow up,” Clint poked at the other man as he took his seat again. “We’ve got important Avenger business. But, fair warning, I get 70% of any spokesman deals or advances. Family’s growing, so I need a bigger cut.”

“Not going to happen. It’s my connections that will get us the best ….” Tony started.

“Guys,” Bruce interrupted. “Much as your banter usually amuses me, I think AD Hill is about to explode, and I know you’d prefer if your insides were not spread all over the room.”

“Thank you, Dr. Banner.” Maria tapped on the table and a projection of the Earth appeared, a 3D map that spun slowly. “We have three situations. Outside of Sierra Vista, Arizona, there are giant lizards attacking.” A grainy camera phone video popped up; what looked like a dinosaur-sized Gila monster was rampaging through a ranch, destroying a barn with a few swipes of its tail and chasing down horses and cattle. “Over seven different sightings have been reported, some at the same time and in different locations, so we know there’s more than one of these things.”

The globe shrank, satellite rotating around the terrestrial ball. “Second, we have an asteroid that has changed direction; it was supposed to be a flyby – close enough to get a good view, but no danger – but now it’s looking like it will come down somewhere in Northern or Central Europe. Oh, and it’s giving off massive radiation readings, so it will create an irradiated wasteland wherever it lands.”

“I can handle the asteroid,” Thor offered. “Is there time to break it up, or do I need to ensure none of it comes near the atmosphere?”

“We don’t want to take any risks, so if you could just alter its trajectory to miss us, that would be the simplest solution,” Hill said.

“Hulk, Cupid, and I will take the lizards. Bruce, we’ll need someone to figure out where these mini-Godzillas came from and help locate their point of origin. Let me guess … they’ve got a radiation signature too?” Tony looked at Maria who nodded in agreement. “Great. We smash them, Bruce outthinks them. Thor plays baseball with the space rock. Got it.”

“Actually, I need Hawkeye and Dr. Banner for the third situation,” Maria said. “Captain Rogers is already on alert; he can make it down from Las Vegas faster than you’ll be there. Plus, do remember that Dr. Banner is on lock down until we determine the exact nature of what has occurred.”

“Right. Regardless, Bruce is still the world’s leading wizard when it comes to gamma.” Sarcasm dripped from Tony’s voice. “And what is this third problem?”

“Carol Danvers. Whatever is causing all of this – bubbles, lizards, asteroids – is also affecting her. I mean to find out exactly what’s going on at that facility. Someone there knows more than they’re telling SHIELD or you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, I know that Clint is very trusting here. But there's a pattern of intuition in his life ... how he immediately knew he could get Natasha to switch allegiances, how quickly he connected with Thor, let Tony lift him up to the rooftop. He is a student of human nature and has always said that the Hulk wouldn't hurt him. In the same way, Clint makes up his mind about Bruce here.


	3. Another Illusion I Chose to Create

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daydreams and waking up .... there's something going on in the hospital where Carol Danvers and Phil Coulson are. 
> 
> I had a dream that Tom Hiddleston was the Mad Hatter and Jeremy Renner was the Doormouse and I was having tea. You can definitely see that in this chapter.

“Mr. Barton, I’m sorry, sir, but we’re under a no visitors policy today,” the guard said as Clint approached the facility’s entrance.

“No visitors? Is everything okay?” Clint didn’t really pause, just kept walking, wanting to see what the older security guard would do.

“They don’t tell me anything, just not to let people in,” he stepped out of his cubicle, blocking the automatic doors. “I have to stop you.”

“Look, Roger,” Clint kept his voice friendly, knowing Hill would be flanking the guard, Bruce dropping back a stop or two to give them room to work.  “I promised Carol I’d finish the book we’re working on before I have to leave town for a bit.”

“I wish I could let you, but they’d have my job if I didn’t follow orders.” He really did seem to want to help and Clint didn’t relish the idea of hitting the man he chatted with about basketball.

“It’s okay, Roger, I’ll take care of them.” A man in a white lab coat came through the doors; young, maybe late 20s or early 30s, he was handsome and quite fit, blonde hair falling over his impossibly blue eyes. Clint catalogued it all, a quick risk assessment of a new component; he’d been visiting for two months now and had never met this particular doctor. The man held out his hand. “Dr. Walter Lawson. He ushered them through the doors without hesitation and down the hallway towards Carol’s room, talking non-stop as they went. “I see you got my message; I’m glad you came so quickly. We’ve had a rough few days and there is so much to learn yet if we want to determine what is going on. I’m especially pleased to see you here, Dr. Banner. Your paper on cosmic radiation and the half-life of neutrinos was excellent. I was hoping to ask AD Hill if I could consult with you on the situation.”

“Wait.  You’re the Walter Lawson who presented on GCR and solar flares last year in Zurich?” Bruce gave the man a second look. “I read your article. You’re really ahead of the curve on that.”

“Thank you. That means a lot coming from you,” he held the door to Carol’s room open as he spoke. “My specialty is radiobiology, specifically GCR and SPE poisoning, but I’m interested in gamma as well which is why SHIELD asked me to look in these cases. When it became obvious that there were other interests at work, I knew we had to act fast. The best thing would be to move them to a safer environment, one with more advanced facilities and security. Now that Coulson has woken up once, I imagine it won’t be long before he emerges permanently.”

It was pure luck that Clint was looking at Hill when Dr. Lawson made that statement, otherwise he would never have believed her protestations of innocent. But he saw the tells – the slight widening of the eyes, the momentary faltering of confidence quickly covered up by her professional ‘I’m a badass who handles everything’ face.

“You didn’t know.” Clint continued to watch, cataloguing her reactions; anger flitted through her eyes for a second and was tamped down.

“No.” That one word told Clint all he needed to know; whatever had happened after Coulson’s ‘death,’ Maria Hill had not been a part of it. Taking a heartbeat to process the news, Hill was back on top of things. “I’d like to see him. After you bring us up to speed.”

“Of course.” Lawson flipped open the Stark tablet he was carrying, brought up some charts and schematics, and passed it to Bruce. “In a nutshell, both patients are reacting to an unknown type of radiation. As you can see, there have now been six events, as I call them. Dr. Danvers and Agent Coulson’s reactions have varied based upon the extent of the radiation of each event and the severity of their own exposure to gamma rays.”

“Carol’s would be more dramatic then,” Bruce said, following Lawson’s words to their logical conclusions as he scrolled through screens. “Seizures, erratic heart rate, blood pressure dropping …”

“Exactly.  The unrad is waking Agent Coulson up, building up the effects of his exposure to the Tesseract to revive him. But Carol’s is a very different situation; these events may kill her.” Clint didn’t miss how Dr. Lawson used Carol’s first name, how he turned to look at the quiet face framed by blonde hair.

“Clint, look at this,” Bruce handed him the tablet. Dates and times were laid out, and he saw the pattern instantly.

“They’re tied together. There’s a lag time to the smaller ones … the bigger the boom, the more immediate the response.” Clint tilted the screen towards Hill. “Giant lizards in Arizona, radioactive meteors … want to bet something’s happening in Russia that we just don’t know about yet?”

“All could be the results of gamma activity,” Bruce nodded.

“So this new … unrad? … could be stirring gamma reactions?” Clint’s mind immediately jumped to a static sphere on the New York Street. “Which begs the million dollar question: is this some sort of random event, a radiation storm like in one of those disaster movies … or is it intentional?”

“That’s what I need your help to find out,” Dr. Lawson said.

* * *

 

Clint shifted, a little uncomfortable in his place beside the door, feeling like he’d intruded upon a private moment, but Hill had asked him to go with her to see Coulson. Bruce had stayed with the doctor, the science part of his brain so deep into the numbers he’d only nodded as they left; he had a problem to solve and Clint knew to give him some space to work through it. Sphere or no sphere, Clint was surer than ever that Bruce was himself; no clone could replicate that distractedly sexy brush of fingers across Clint’s arm that Bruce did. Hell, Clint wasn’t even sure Bruce knew he did it, more muscle memory than anything else, a light touch, a reminder that Bruce hadn’t forgotten him, no matter how far away his brain had strayed. Thinking of Bruce made him replay the earlier conversation; if the crazy shit happening was related to gamma rays, then maybe all of it was.

“How long have you known?” Hill asked in a soft voice that Clint had never heard her use before. He and Hill were not enemies; he recognized that most of their friction was her job as AD. Her responsibility was to maintain control and order so SHIELD worked like a well-oiled machine, and she was damn good at it. Unfortunately, Clint was grit in those wheels, an ‘agitator’ as she’d called him once when he refused to follow a set of stupid ass orders from a handler who turned out to be a double agent for HYDRA. That meant the two of them were often at odds, like now over his suspension, but it didn’t mean that they hated each other. They were more like reluctant colleagues who could, if pressed, see the value in each other’s strengths. But in all the time they’d rubbed each other the wrong way, they’d never been the type to share emotion … until now.

“Right after Halloween, when we brought Carol here. Natasha figured it out; I’ve been visiting both of them. Been under a few times myself, and I firmly believe they know I’m here, can hear me when I talk to them.” He nodded to the copy of Heinlein’s _A Stranger in a Strange Land_ lying on the counter. “Coulson likes classic sci fi. I went with Harry Dresden for Carol.”

“And the others? They know? I can’t imagine Stark keeping a secret.” There was vulnerability in her face as she turned to him, a small smile around the edges of her mouth.

“You’d be surprised actually. Let’s see, Steve, Tony, Bruce, Thor … yeah, we all know. Steve visits regularly too; the staff all has signed pictures by now.”

“And yet, somehow, SHIELD doesn’t know.” She shook her head. “There’s a hole in our intel if we missed this. Unless someone doesn’t want us … me … to notice.”

“You’ll have to ask him. I’ve long ago learned to not try to get in his head.”

 “True. There will be a reason. I probably won’t like it, but he’ll have one.” She did smile then, fingers stroking Coulson’s hand absently. “What do you think we should do?”

The question surprised Clint; usually she simply gave orders and he was expected to follow. But this wasn’t a usual case. “We take them back to Stark Tower. Tony’s got the best security, better than the Helicarrier; Lawson and Bruce can use the toys in the labs. They’ll be safe there.”

“I may have been wrong, you know.” She looked directly into Clint’s eyes as she admitted it.

“About …. Coulson?” he asked, confused.

“About you and Banner. You’re good together,” she said as she headed for the door. “Read him another chapter. I’ll go make the arrangements.”

* * *

 

_“Hulk, stop!” Steve’s voice shouted over the comms, crackling in Tony’s ear. “Don’t go in there. It’s not safe.”_

_A roar shook the ground; from his perch on top of a rock formation, Clint could see the wide expanse of desert laid out before him. Tony gave some final blasts to bring down one scaly monster a good football field away from where the Hulk was running another one to ground, following it down the rabbit hole … was that a giant rabbit that just poked its head up from the sand … and Steve, in his star spangled outfit that melted into a waistcoat and jacket, pocket watch and all, was chasing after the Big Guy, nothing left of him but a hovering grin._

_“There’s a high concentration of potassium-40 in that old mine, Steve,” Tony warned. “Don’t go in there. There’s no telling what it might do to you, super serum or not.”_

_Gleaming red and gold landed, suit unfolding around Tony’s body, turning into an elaborate court costume, something right out of medieval English history. Clint shook his head to clear the fog, but the sand turned to grass then to black and white squares; holding onto his bow, he stood up from the table, pushing away the tea cups._

_“Where’s Barton when you need him,” Tony groused. “I might just have to chop his head off one of these days.”_

_“Always late,” Steve agreed._

_“I’m here!” Clint tried to shout, but the ground opened up underneath him, and he was falling, growing smaller as the light receded above him. A buzzing grew louder and louder until it surrounded him, dragging him down …._

The book clattered to the floor as it tumbled from his numb fingers; jolting back to reality, Clint sat up in his chair, the images of the daydream still in his head as the nurse ran into the room. Alarms were blaring as Coulson twitched, legs moving, hands reaching up for some unseen object.

“What the fuck?” Disoriented, Clint still caught Coulson’s hand and held it, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Phil? You there?”

Coulson’s eyes blinked open, clearing as his gaze settled on Clint’s face. “Loki? Where?”

The nurse … Janine was her name … nodded as she turned off the noise, checking Coulson’s vitals. “Talk to him. It will help ground him.”

“It’s over, Coulson. We won.”

“Behind me.” The memories were filtering back, Coulson settling as his thoughts came into focus. “Thor. Trapped. Is he….?”

“Fine. Teaching Jane how to ride and out drinking Stark,” Clint assured him.

A long pause. “You’re not still ...” His eyes shuttered closed, SHIELD training, worried about Clint being compromised.

“Nat did a little cognitive recalibration. Banged my head really hard on an iron bar.” He gave an easy smile. “See? Eyes back to normal.”

Coulson sighed, relaxing. “How long have I been out?”

“A little over a year.” No way to break that easily; it was a long time to lose. “Bruce can fill you in on the specifics when he gets here; too technical for me. Something about gamma rays.”

“It’s a little more complex than that, but yeah, basically,” Bruce said from the doorway. “Nice to see you again, Agent.”

“Dr. Banner.  I believe if you’ve seen me in a hospital gown, you can call me Phil.” Coulson’s eyes cut between the two men, reading the many levels of the situation in just a few blinks. Oh yeah, that was Coulson alright; Clint’s grin got even wider. No more worries about the effects of the spear on brain patterns. Any second now, Coulson was going to ask for a sitrep.

“Only if you call me Bruce.” As he crossed the space; a blue spark jumped between them, from Bruce’s outstretched fingers to where Clint’s hand rested by Coulson’s fingers. The crackle was loud; a machine beside the bed whined in protest and popped, blowing out the screen. Bruce stepped back immediately. “Whoa.”

“Janine, could you get Dr. Lawson? I think he’ll want to see this,” Clint suggested, mostly to get the nurse out of the room before something exploded. And it wasn’t always his fault when things blew up. Really.

“Report?” Coulson asked as soon as she was gone; something close to joy jumped inside Clint’s chest.

“I like hearing you ask that,” Clint almost laughed, he felt so good. “Long story though.”

“Give me the down and dirty, then.” Coulson tried to push himself up. “Is there a bed control somewhere?” Clint reached for the remote hanging over the side railing; his phone vibrated in his pocket but he ignored it. Lifting it up, another spark jumped between the two men, from Coulson back to Clint this time.

“What is going on?” Lawson entered the room just in time to see the static discharge; he thought about it for a moment. “Let’s try this.” He held out his hand to Coulson, closing the distance. “Dr. Walter Lawson. Nice to finally meet you, Agent Coulson.” Tentatively, Coulson took Lawson’s proffered hand … and nothing happened.

Clint’s phone buzzed, this time in tandem with Bruce’s.

“Interesting,” Lawson commented. “Spontaneous discharge? That would mean …”

This time Clint’s phone rang loudly, a special ringtone that only Tony used, Bruce’s own emergency tone just seconds behind. “Excuse me, but I think I better answer this.”  He stepped out of the room and started down the hall towards an emergency exit the staff smokers used; there was a door stop just outside to prop the heavy door open. Moving further out, he answered the insistent ring.

“Barton, where the hell have you been?” Tony’s voice rang loud through the small speakers. “We’ve got a major situation here. You’ve got to talk to the Big Guy. Something’s got him all riled up and we can’t get him to calm down. Here, see if you can get him to make sense.”

Clint could suddenly hear all the surrounding noise – what sounded like a hiss, the whistle of air passing as Tony moved, creaks in the suit, and the familiar voice of the Hulk shouting.

“Hey, Big Guy! What’s wrong?” He stifled the urge to yell into the phone, knowing Tony would adjust the volume on his end. “Talk to me.”

“Head hurt. All wrong. Little guy not here.” The voice was full of confusion. “Something coming.”

“What’s coming?” Clint prompted; he had his suspicions, but no real proof.

“Bad things. Evil. Can’t. Make it stop.” The Hulk cut off with a long, loud groan of pain.

“Tony, are you near any caves or old mines? Any elevated gamma readings?” If Carol and Coulson were reacting, why not the Hulk with gamma altered DNA?

“Scanning for …. Whoa! We’re right on top of … what is it Jarvis?”

“Potassium-40.” Clint knew; after all, the staff had touched him as well. “Get the Hulk out of there Tony. No time to explain just ….”

A roar overrode all other sound and then Tony cut back in “… spiking, something’s there, just inside ….” The connection grew worse, sound going in and out. “…some sort of …. NO! … him, Steve, don’t let … the fuck ….”  The line went dead.

It hit him like a wave, and he staggered for a second; when he looked up, he was in the palace in Asgard, view of the city spread before him, open door behind him, brown December Pennsylvania grass for a floor.

_“Tell me more about this Hulk creature,” Loki asked, demand couched in an easy voice, relaxed against the pillows on the big bed that dominated the room. “I would know his weaknesses.”_

_“He has none,” Clint answered as a chilly breeze ruffled his hair. “You can’t beat him.”_

_“Truly? All monsters have a chink in their armor.” Long legs swung over the edge, and he prowled to where Clint stood, hand landing lightly on the small of Clint’s back. “What is the line? Methinks he doth protest too much?”_

_“The Hulk is invincible. End of story.” His phone buzzed in his pocket, an alarm sounded inside the building, but he couldn’t move._

_“Are you sure?” He purred into Clint’s ear. “Because I think I already know the one thing the monster can’t do without …. Agent Barton.”_

“Agent Barton?” Janine tugged on his sleeve. “We need you in Dr. Danvers room. Please.” She was terrified, her eyes wide with fear, but she pulled him towards the door.

“Clint? Are you there?” Tony’s voice bounced out of the phone in his hand. “Punch it …. Jarvis … got to get through to them. Barton!”

“I’m here. What the fuck is going on?” Clint kept the phone to his ear as he followed Janine back inside and down the hall. “We’ve got problems of our own.”

“The Hulk went down a cave after one of those lizard things, and then everything went to hell. We can’t contact him, all our systems went haywire, and there’s radiation leaking everywhere. So how the hell did you know about the Potassium-40?”

Skidding around a corner, Clint sprinted the last few feet to where Hill stood in the hallway; Coulson sat in a wheelchair in just his hospital gown. “Should you be out of bed?” Clint asked him.

“Situation FUBAR, standard protocol,” he answered, nodding into the room where Bruce and Lawson were both working to stabilize Carol, her body convulsing and arching upwards. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Biggest one yet!” Lawson yelled, looking at a small compact monitor on his wrist. “Get ready.”

“Tony, batten down the hatches. There might be another ….” Clint shouted into the phone.

“Fuck!” He heard Tony yell at the exact same time. “Jarvis, record … readings … Clint? …. Big ass sphere forming …. Holy hell …” Static filled the line as they lost the connection again.

A flash and an arc of energy curved out of Carol’s body, slamming into Bruce; he reeled back, shaking as he started to collapse. Clint dodged forward and caught him before he crashed into a cabinet, hooking his arms under Bruce’s shoulders and taking his weight, easing down to sit on the floor. Hands scrabbling at his throat, Bruce coughed and tried to speak, muscles clenching.

“Hold on, Bruce, hold on.” Clint looked for help; Lawson was restraining Carol who had already torn the IV out of her arm and was thrashing about helplessly.

“Does he have any allergies?” Janine dropped to her knees next to them, her hands trembling. “Looks like anaphylactic shock.”

Clint blinked. “You have an epi-pen?”

“We keep them in here. Dr. Danvers had a reaction to one of the medications.” She nodded and dashed to a drawer, pulling it open and grabbing one of the plastic applicators; in seconds she was back with the medication, ripping Bruce’s khakis and jabbing the needle into his thigh. Within a few seconds, he began to breathe easier, sagging back against Clint’s chest; brushing back the curls stuck to Bruce’s forehead, Clint saw Coulson eyeing them. A slight shrug gave him all the answer he needed.

“Janine, clear the room, get everyone out,” Lawson ordered as static jumped again; this time a machine caught fire, sending a shower of sparks as it ignited, and Carol collapsed back against the bed. “Agent Barton, please protect Dr. Banner and Agent Coulson; you have all had contact with gamma radiation and are in peril. This appears to be a strong manifestation; I am not sure we are out of danger yet.”

Clint got Bruce to his feet; Janine took his other arm helped them out of the room. “I’m okay,” Bruce argued hoarsely, trying to push Clint away.

“Stow that. I know exactly what it feels like,” Clint replied. “Janine, do you have any Benadryl? It might help him.”

“Electricity … activated the nannites … but more than that.” Bruce’s voice was ragged, his breathing still uneven. “It’s the spheres; I’m connected somehow. You and Coulson and Carol, too. The Other Guy, right? I can almost hear him. He’s scared, trapped; he doesn’t like dark, small places.”

“Tony and Steve are there. They’ll take care of him. You worry about you.” Clint chided him. “Hey, I know we have chemistry, but electricity?”

That got a tentative smile, bad pun that it was. “Old habit to break, I guess,” he joked.

“Clint.” Hill warned, and he glanced up, expecting a reprimand for joking around, but her eyes were fixed on a spot just inside the room. “We have a problem.”

A small glowing circle, the size of a tennis ball, floated about four feet off of the floor, ghostly tendrils trailing off like fingers, touching the counter, the floor, the IV stand, the edge of the blanket, the railing of the bed. It drifted, first towards the door; one of the touches brushed Clint’s boot, the tiniest of charge tickling his toes. Hill was ignored completely as it moving slowly back into the room.

“Dr. Lawson,” Clint said calmly, unsure of how the energy sphere would react to emotion, making no assumptions; the doctor’s head whipped towards Clint, eyes widening as he saw it. “Nice and easy. It doesn’t seem to be interested unless you’ve been exposed. You should be okay if you step slowly away from the bed.”

A questing tendril brushed along Carol’s leg, worked free from the blanket; at the touch, Carol’s eyes flew open, and she gasped just as another curled around Lawson’s ankle, a caress as much as anything else. Unseeing for a moment, Carol shook her head clear and focused.

“Clint?” Husky from disuse, her voice still carried despite the soft volume.

“It’s okay,” he assured her … but it wasn’t. The sphere lunged, growing rapidly as it flew towards the bed, tendrils wrapping around Carol’s limbs as it started to engulf her. Before Clint could move more than two steps, Lawson put his body between the woman in the bed and the unknown magic; in the seconds it took Carol to cry out, they were both gone, sucked into the center of the sparkling ball. Clint backed away as the sides pulsed, ripples running from top to bottom, and then the tendrils lashed out; a smaller one caught Coulson’s arm and the man jerked. Bruce cried out as a large one slammed into his chest. Clint tried to avoid the one that came for him, but it hit him full on, a clammy coldness blasting through his body as he fell to his knees ….

_… onto hard wood, darkness surrounding him, only one thin sliver of light running perpendicular, broken and jagged over the sleeves of heavy winter coats. A sniffle from the corner, the slightest movement, and he could just make out the small form huddled in the corner. Big brown eyes stared at him, skinny knees drawn up, arms locked tightly around them, hugging himself._

_“Hey?” Clint asked, softly. “You okay?”_

_“Sssssshhhh.” A tremulous voice answered. “He’ll hear you, and I’ll get punished.”_

_A shadow darkened the light, passing in front of the door. A deep voice, shouting, faded as he moved away. “Did I say you could talk? Did I? Who the hell do you think you are?” A woman’s indistinct murmur, low but distraught, answered._

_“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” Clint sat down cross-legged, patient to wait it out. A face emerged, green skin and round-cheeks, curly brown hair, maybe twelve at the oldest, skinny legs and arms sticking out of too small, too young play clothes. “Do you know who I am?”_

_Head cocked to the side, thinking. “Cupid,” came the hesitant whisper.  Clint smiled, let it show in his eyes and simply held his arms open for the little Hulk to throw himself into, head buried against Clint’s chest, sniffles and tears wiped dry on his shirt._

_“Clint?” The second tiny voice came from the corner behind him; skinned knees, big black eye, finger shaped bruises on his arms, little Bruce’s lip trembled as he slid out of the shadows. Clint shifted the Hulk onto his left hip and held out his right arm for little Bruce who immediately climbed onto his lap and huddled close._

_“Don’t worry,” he whispered into both heads of brown hair. “He can’t hurt you.”_

_BLAM. BLAM. BLAM. The door shook as someone pounded on the outside of it. “Is that you talking in there? I told you to shut up or I’ll tape your mouth, you rotten bastard.”_

_The boys cowered, trying to stifle their sobs in Clint’s skin, and his anger flared; he wished he could find the son of a bitch and kill him again. Slowly. “Don’t listen to him. This is your dream. You can control it.”_

_“He’s smart,” little Bruce whimpered._

_“He’s strong,” little Hulk cried quietly._

_“Look at me.  You are smarter than he is,” he looked at little Bruce. “And you are stronger than he is,” he looked at little Hulk. “And I’m even more of a son-of-a-bitch than he is. Together? The three of us can do anything.”_

_Little Hulk grew and changed, filling up the space until Clint could barely breathe in the wet and damp cave, crushed against a rocky wall. The Big Guy was shaking with cold, but he was looking right at Clint. “Cupid?” he asked. “Don’t like dark small place.”_

_“I know, dude, but it’s just rock. Steve and Tony are up there worried about you, and they need to get out of the area before the radiation gets to them. Up and out. You can do it.” He patted the Big Guy’s shoulder with his free hand. “I’ll meet you back at the Tower.”_

_“Little guy be there?” Hope in his eyes, the Hulk looked at Clint._

_“You bet. We’ll all watch a movie together.”_

_“Follow the White Rabbit.” The Hulk grinned. ”Red or Blue.”_

“Barton. Can you hear me?”

“Maria?”  Clint looked up at her; he was on the floor, kneeling where he’d dropped.

“I need you to get up. We have to leave. The alarm’s gone off, and I can’t get everyone out by myself.”

He blinked and looked around; Phil was slumped over in the wheelchair. Bruce was still out, chin on his chest, eyes closed, Janine taking his pulse. “Carol and the doctor?”

“See for yourself.” Hill gave him a hand up. In the room beyond, Carol Danvers stood, the unconscious body of Walter Lawson in her arms.

“You wouldn’t happen to have an extra pair of pants would you? This hospital gown is drafty.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I guess I've decided to rewrite Carol's transformation into Ms. Marvel. I've recently fallen in love with her character and now I get to write her into the story. So, excuse the liberties I'm taking to make it work.


	4. Kill the Lights, Shut 'em Off, You're Electric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What we do in dreams we also do when we are awake: we invent and fabricate the person with whom we associate -- and immediately forget we have done so.” Fredrick Nietzsche

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist playing with Loki here since I'd already started the Alice In Wonderland references. Smut ahead, fair warning!

“Well, hell, Barton, you invited guests over and didn’t tell me.”  Tony had come straight to the medical level as soon as the jet landed, Steve right behind him; even the Hulk crowded into the hallway outside the row of cubicles, huffing and trying to get a view of Bruce.  Drops of water still clung to Tony and Steve’s hair from the decontamination shower, and their sweats were Stark industries wear, high quality soft cotton, of course, because it was Tony’s favorite.

“You going to ground me for having a party while Mom and Dad were out?” Clint asked, but his attention was really on the doctor who was, yet again, checking over Bruce; those dark circles under his eyes and a shortness of breath worried Clint. What Bruce needed was rest, preferably with Clint right beside him. After the strange … daydreams? … Clint was feeling particularly clingy, something unusual for him, but all he wanted to do right now was to tuck Bruce into bed and watch him sleep.

“So Phil … Agent Coulson … is awake?” Steve asked, derailing the snark train before it could get going. “And Carol?”

“Coulson’s going to need time to get his strength and muscle mass back, but he’s himself for sure. First thing he did was ask for a report.” Clint smiled at the memory of Phil waking up in the jet in that ridiculously thin gown. “The part of the tesseract in the scepter kept him alive and is now reacting to the unknown radiation by speeding his recovery.”

“Well, something good should come from that thing finally,” Tony muttered as he was texting on his phone. Speaking of dark circles, Tony was showing all the signs of lack of sleep, a kind of manic look in his eyes that meant he was going on espresso and adrenaline.

“Carol is sitting with Dr. Lawson until he wakes up,” Bruce said as the doctor finished.  “Lawson’s monitor was right in the middle of the sphere; the data could be invaluable in understanding what’s going on.” He started to stand up, but sagged back down onto the bed.

“And that can wait until tomorrow,” the doctor ordered. “You need rest, Dr. Banner; if you had a patient who’d been exposed to an electrical charge, had a life threatening allergic reaction and been unconscious, you’d say the same thing.” Clint gave Bruce an ‘I told you so’ look, and Bruce gave in graciously which meant he really did feel like shit. If he’d felt up to it, Clint knew, nothing could stop him from heading to the lab for the rest of the evening.

“You might want to talk to the big green guy outside the door,” Steve said. “He’s pretty messed up by what happened in those caves.”

“I’ll tell him I’ll be right there, then I’ll get you into bed, doc,” Clint laid a comforting hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Give me a minute.”

“It’s okay, Clint.” Bruce sighed. “Actually, I want to see him. For a while there, I knew what he was feeling, shared his panic. Strange, but now that we’re separate, I think I’m starting to understand him better. He’s going to want to make sure I’m okay too. That’s what he does; protect me, so we’ll talk to him together.”

Despite his concerns about Bruce’s health, Clint had to grin; the relationship between the two was changing, and he was glad to see it happening. The little boys in that closet were starting to understand the way they worked together. He held out his hand and Bruce used it to get up; Clint let Bruce decide how much help he needed, but he did keep a tight hold, fingers laced together for strength as they headed to the door.

“I’ll start working on the data and see what Jarvis and I can figure out. Then I’m going to contact Hank Pym about nannites that were supposed to be inert but weren’t. We missed something. Oh, and Jarvis?” Tony called, “stock epi-pens in labs and bedrooms of everyone exposed, plus add them to the standard kits, will you?”

“Of course sir,” the AI responded.

“Also, access Dr. Lawson’s monitor and begin the download while I’m finishing up here.”

“Tony,” Bruce called from the doorway. “I think you should take the same advice. I know you were up all last night in the lab, and that’s been two battles since you’ve slept.”

“It’s not a problem. That’s why I invented a better espresso machine,” Tony winked. “Who needs sleep when you’ve got caffeine?”

Steve didn’t glower or even speak, just raised that one eyebrow which meant he saw right through Tony’s bullshit then gave Bruce a small nod. He’d see to it.

“Hey!” Clint heard Tony protest as they went out in the hallway. “Don’t not talk about me while you’re talking about me with me in the room!”

“Little guy okay?” the Hulk was waiting, obviously agitated; there were a few dents in drywall where he’d leaned against it or drummed his fingers, a nervous habit Bruce shared.

“Tired, but fine,” Bruce answered. “How about we go to your room so I can sit down before I fall down?”

The Hulk caught him in a hug, cradling him the same way he’d done to Clint in Las Vegas, holding Bruce as if he was made of fragile glass. “I’m perfectly capable of walking,” Bruce protested, “if you just give me a minute.”

“Hulk carry little guy. What Hulk do.” And that was that, no arguing; taking care of Bruce seemed to calm the Big Guy, give him a focus, and Clint was glad to let him do it. After all, he was right. The Hulk had always taken care of Bruce, healing him, making sure he didn’t fall apart, stopping that bullet to the brain. Truth was, that’s why the Hulk existed; to protect that little boy in the closet, to be strong enough to stand up to the bad people in his life. And that reminded Clint; he still had to find General Thaddeus E. ‘Thunderbolt’ Ross and put a barbed arrow in his ass.

“This is your room?” Bruce asked, and Clint realized he’d never been here before.  This whole situation was going to take some getting used to and some changes in thinking about the three of them. “Nice. Tony did it up right.”

“Hulk pick TV,” he said proudly, “and painting.”

Huh. Clint hadn’t known that. He’d just assumed that Pepper had picked it out; she had really good taste. “Is that a Lichtenstein?” Good lord, it was probably an original, knowing Tony.

“[Looks like bacon](http://whitney.org/WatchAndListen/Tag?context=painting&play_id=447),” the Hulk noted, and it did, the big bold brushstrokes dominating the frame. “Watch movie now?” He sat Bruce down on the big couch.

“We watching a movie?” Clint asked, kicking off his shoes and putting them by the door, another habit Bruce had gotten him into.

“Cupid promise.” The Hulk never forgot a promise. Never. “In cave. White rabbit and red pill.”

“Wait. How do you know that?” Clint was floored; that conversation had taken place in one of his dreams when they were thousands of miles apart.

“You were there. In head. Promised.” While the Big Guy busied himself getting a drink from the fridge, Clint stared at his back.

“Whoa, whoa. That means … do you remember the closet?”

“No closet. Underground. Cave. Hulk didn’t like.” He shook his head as he talked.

“Bruce, did you …” Clint turned to find that Bruce had already drifted off, head lolling back on the edge of the soft recliner portion of the couch.

“What?” he mumbled, then looked blearily around. “Maybe I should try to sleep. I feel all hyped up on the inside but so tired. God, I guess I’ve forgotten what being sick feels like.”

“That’s the antihistamine at work.” Clint sat beside him. “You want me to help you back to your room?”

“No.” He pushed himself up. “There’s a nice big bed right in there. I’ll sleep and you can stay here with the … Hulk. Watch a movie or something.”  Clint made no bones about helping Bruce into the other room and undressing him; it was a sign of how tired Bruce was that he didn’t argue with Clint as he bundled him under the covers.

“Cupid sleep too.” Hulk watched from the doorway. “Stay with Little Guy.”

“It’s okay, I promised.” Clint argued.

“Sleep. Little Bruce needs you. Big Guy okay,” he insisted.

It was what Clint really wanted to do; Bruce was shivering slightly, running a mild fever. “You sure?”

“Sure. Hulk watch over you both.” He turned back and asked Jarvis to start the movie.

Stripping down to his briefs, Clint climbed over Bruce and slipped in next to him, pulling him into his arms; Bruce turned towards him and buried his head against Clint’s shoulder as he drifted off, leaving Clint to wonder over the fact that Bruce had used the work Hulk and the Hulk had used Bruce’s name.

* * *

 

 “… so if the radiation interaction is magnetic, it’s a matter of determining the resonating frequencies. Then there’s the discharge; the triboelectric effect could be  …” Tony continued as he and Steve walked down the hallway towards the elevator. He’d been talking non-stop since the others left, plans within plans, most of which Steve simply tuned out.

“How long have you been awake, Tony?” Steve asked.

“Sleep is vastly overrated,” Tony scoffed. “Once Jarvis gets the data from the monitor, I can calibrate the readings to find …”

“Tony,” Steve interrupted as the doors opened. “Let’s go to bed.”

Tony bristled. “Steve, I don’t need a nanny to watch over me and tell me when to go to bed and when to eat. I’ve already got Pepper for that and look where that relationship ended up.”

Steve knew he’d obviously hit a nerve; Tony might act like he needed a watcher but in reality he chose to prioritize his life in ways others found eccentric and odd.  Holding up a hand as a peace gesture, Steve clarified his statement as the doors swished closed.

“I don’t want to be your babysitter, Tony. Obviously, I didn’t get the phrasing right. I meant that for both of us. Together.” He didn’t like stating thing so baldly, but Tony always did push him out of his comfort zone. “Sex, Tony. I’m talking about sex.”

Anger dropped away immediately, hard lines around his eyes giving way to a familiar sparkle. “Oh. Well, why didn’t you say so? I prefer the straight forward method -- just be obvious.” Punching the button for his floor, Tony crowded Steve up against the paneled wall as they started upwards. “Did you miss me? I know it’s tough to be deprived of my presence once you’ve basked in the glow.”

“You are so full of yourself, Tony,” Steve may have been complaining, but his body was certainly reacting to the sexual tension oozing out of Tony’s voice.

“I’d rather be full of you.” How Tony could do that, go from science to talking dirty in zero to sixty seconds, Steve wasn’t sure. Nor did he understand why Tony’s filthy mouth was so eminently kissable and fuckable. And, yeah, he had thought about Tony’s lips around his cock in the last two days more times than he’d like to admit.

“About that. I’m not sure I’m ready, not yet. I mean, I will be, but it’s a big step and I’d rather wait until we see if this is going to work out or not, if that’s okay with you.” Tripping over his tongue, Steve tried to explain; it was an old-fashioned notion – people today seemed to jump right into sex, not ease around the bases like he was used to. Well, Clint and Bruce had been a pretty slow build up, but the idea of hooking up just didn’t appeal to Steve. Best to get it out in the open now.

Tony’s sexy smile only widened. “I knew that, Cap. I’m okay with whatever you want to do or not do. As long as I get off in the process, I don’t care whether it’s your hand or your mouth or your ass … all of them do it for me.”

Steve barely had time to react to that statement before the doors opened, and Tony was dragging him out of the elevator by the collar of his t-shirt, pushing him up against the first available wall and swooping in to take control of his mouth, tongue invading as he kissed him. This wasn’t how Steve had foreseen how things would go – he had definitely had a plan – and, damn it, he liked his plan, so he used his strength to switch their places, pinning Tony’s wrists to the wall with one hand while his other yanked up the hem of Tony’s shirt. And then he stopped when he saw the purpling bruises on Tony’s abdomen.

“Tony. What’s this? Are you hurt?” A spike of anger shot through Steve; working through the night to solve a problem was on thing, but ignoring an injury was completely different.

“What? Oh, just some bruises from the suit. Damn lizard blindsided me with its tail. Hey, can’t have a battle without cracking a few eggs,” Tony joked, but Steve’s face remained serious.

“We should get you checked out,” Steve pulled back, but Tony grabbed his shoulders.

“Look, metal and flesh sometimes means bruises and scratches. It’s no worse than the ones I get sparring with Natasha and Clint, okay?” Tony said then his voice grew husky. “Of course, I’d much rather have a different set of marks – circles around my wrists, hand prints on my hips, bite marks anywhere.”

The words and images they conjured hit Steve’s crotch, and his cock jumped to attention as he bit his lip to keep from groaning; it was to no avail because Tony saw Steve’s eyes darken with lust.

“Oh, so it’s that way is it? Well then, come on Steve. Mark me.”

Then Steve pulled Tony’s shirt off, couldn’t wait get his mouth on Tony’s chest, sucking little divots of flesh around the glow of the arc reactor, dragging low moans from Tony’s throat as he left bruises in his wake. His fingers tightened around Tony’s wrist, holding him hard and fast as he kissed every inch of skin he could reach, ran his tongue up Tony’s neck, kissed him until he couldn’t see straight, and then went back down again.

“Fuck, Steve,” Tony growled, arching his back and thrusting his hips forward. “Go right for the jugular, why don’t you?”

“Classic strategy. Hit the most sensitive areas first and destroy resistance,” he murmured as his mouth covered one of Tony’s nipples and sucked greedily. The little mewl of pleasure Tony gave had figured prominently in Steve’s dreams the last few nights. His hand dived under the waistband of Tony’s sweats and over the head of Tony’s cock, stroking the hardening length. “Shock and awe.”

“Damn, I love it when you talk dirty to me,” Tony chuckled between choked breaths. “Next you’ll be quoting Sun Tzu while you suck me off.”

“Nah, it’s not polite to talk with my mouth full.” Steve grinned, letting go of Tony’s wrists, dropping to his knees, yanking the sweats down around Tony’s ankles, and taking Tony’s length in one slick slide.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Tony could only say, and Steve felt a stab of triumph for making Tony Stark lose his ability to speak. He took his time, sucking him in deep then sliding back out, swirling his tongue around the velvety head, running along the thick vein. Tony hardened with each stroke, and Steve felt Tony begin to move with him, fingers anchor themselves in his blonde hair and hold him; stilling, he turned the reins over to Tony who began to thrust into Steve’s mouth in earnest, babbling encouragement and praise as he did. “Fucking good and wet and so hot, oh god, you on your knees, Steve fucking Rogers, taking it all, oh fuck Steve …” Motions stuttered and strained, Tony’s cock jolting into his mouth, and then Tony was coming with a long sigh that sounded like Steve’s name. A little gagging, swallowing, taking as much as he could, Steve helped Tony finish off with his tongue before he rose up and took Tony’s mouth in a fierce kiss, sharing the taste.

“Me. You. Now.” Shoving Steve back, Tony tried to give orders. “Damn, Cap. Shock and awe indeed.” 

Steve let Tony herd him to the big sectional sofa that dominated the room; he kicked off his shoes and removed his sweats before he sat down on the end chaise, Tony following and pushing Steve until his head rested on the plump pillows. Somewhere along the way, Tony had lost the rest of his clothes too, and now he knelt, completely nude, between Steve’s open thighs, one leg off of each side, staring at the body laid out beneath him.

“Tell you what. If this is one massive drunken hallucination, just don’t tell me, okay?” He ran his hands along the outlines of Steve’s muscles then chased them with his mouth, the tickle of his mustache like little electrical charges that went straight to Steve’s groin. “And if you’re a clone that’s replaced the prickly, pain-in-the-ass Steve I first met, you’re welcome to stay, no problem.” Hands slid up the inside of Steve’s thighs, fingers pressing into the ticklish skin at the juncture, holding him open.

“Tony,” Steve breathed out as he watched the dark haired head move lower.  He gasped as Tony sucked a line along his hip bone, hard, sure to leave marks, at least for the night. The pleasure tinged with just a tiny bite pain was perfect, something he’d never told anyone he craved … Tony just knew. A soft brush of lips on the head of his cock, a flick of the tongue, parting and sliding down, a slightly too strong pull back up, and Steve was closing his eyes, riding the tidal rush as long as he could before he had to set his own pace. Hands buried in the brown curly locks, he thrust upwards into Tony’s mouth, breathing loudly, ragged gasps of need; Tony drove him over the edge with swirls of his tongue, taking him so deep that Steve forgot why he ever worried about doing this, reminding Steve that Tony never really gave up control at all. Finally, after what seemed like forever of the delicious torment, Steve’s orgasm uncoiled and he came, his eyes locked on Tony’s as the man swallowed. “Fuck,” he moaned as Tony collapsed on the couch next to him.

“Agreed. Fucking great way to end the day.” They lay in companionable silence for a few seconds, cooling down before Steve rolled up with a groan. He picked up his sweats and found his shirt, which had somehow been thrown halfway across the room, pulling it on as he wandered into the luxurious bathroom.

“You know,” Tony said as Steve padded on bare feet back down the hallway when he was done, “if you leave now I’m going to head down to the lab and start working. Nothing like sex to perk me right up.”

Steve gave Tony a disbelieving stare. “Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Hey, truth works sometimes.” He dragged on his sweats and headed towards the bedroom.

“You could just ask me to stay.” Steve shook his head at the backflips Tony was willing to do to avoid saying anything that might give away his emotions, but he followed anyway, decision already made.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Tony turned down the covers on the California king size bed; the wall of windows showed the nighttime skyline of New York City, a comforting glow of lights filling the room. Crawling in, he scooted over, leaving plenty of room. “You coming?”

Steve made that sound in the back of his throat, disbelief mixed with a sigh, and slid in, pulling up the covers, scooting over as he did.

Tony made it a whole 73 seconds without talking.

“So, what are the rules of dating Steve Rogers? Blow jobs on the third date, showers on the fifth …”

“Well, since we haven’t actually been on a date, I guess we’re still technically up at bat, not even on base.” Steve fitted himself along Tony’s back, tangling their legs together and sliding an arm over Tony’s side, hand resting just beside the arc reactor.

“Oh, god, you’re a cuddler. Should have known.” Tony wiggled and shifted around, mostly just for show. “Great. You going to poke me with that thing all night, remind me of how long it takes me to get it up again at my age?”

“Tony,” Steve said, breaths blowing across Tony’s ear. “Go to sleep.”

This time Tony made it 2 minutes and 52 seconds.

“So, what, roses, lobster dinner, restaurant with a view, wine, slow music … the whole nine yards? Maybe a chick-flick thrown in for good measure?”

“Tony.”

4 minutes and 28 seconds.

“Pasta Pescatore. Mrs. Angeletti up the street used to always make it on special occasions for Mr. Angeletti; he taught me and Bucky how to play baseball. Let’s just say they weren’t very subtle especially in the summer with the windows open. So, pasta pescartore with gremolata sauce, homemade bread, and nice bottle of Verdicchio.” Steve’s voice was quiet.

“I can do that,” was the last thing Tony said before they both drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 

_Teapots and teacups tilted and towered, precariously defying gravity on the cluttered table, the overstuffed chairs, and even the golden floor. He poured into the top cup of a stack, brown steaming liquid cascading down and filling all of them; wearing a Victorian waistcoat and burgundy velvet smoking jacket, he gave Clint that smile, the one that promised mischief, belied the evil lurking in his heart, and charmed everyone he turned it on._

_“So, tell me about Bruce Banner,” he ordered, silk hat perched on his head; he sipped the hot liquid. “Have you figured it out yet?”_

_Clint saw Bruce at the end of the table, head down, fast asleep, snoring slightly, cold cup still in his hand._

_“This isn’t a dream.” That much he was sure of. “But I don’t know if I’m just conjuring you up because you’re as mad as a hatter, or if you’re really here.”_

_“Small steps, Barton. Small steps. You are good at making plans, I’ll give you that. So, if you were behind this, what would be your goals?” He kicked his long legs up on an ottoman, upsetting a sterling silver sugar bowl that clattered to the ground._

_“And I’m going to just tell you?” Clint shook his head. “Not stupid here. In fact, if this is one of your brain fucks, I want to know now.” His bow appeared in his hands, exploding arrow notched, and he drew it back in one smooth motion; the string vibrated, the familiar weight a comfort, sight narrowed to the spot between Loki’s eyes._

_“Excellent. You can control the environment … although this is quite a strange choice even for you,” he said. “Unfortunately, I have no knowledge of what is happening, just that you have inserted me into this little play of yours.”_

_“Right. And I’m supposed to believe that?” Clint’s muscles were taut, his fingers itching to release the arrow._

_“It ‘tis the truth, I’m afraid. Really. I’m quite worried. Something powerful enough to bring me here, even as a projection, is a formidable foe indeed. Perhaps, if I help you discover the answer to this problem, I can prove my worth to my kin and be set free again.” He rose and offered his hand to Clint. “Come now, Clinton. It is not as if we haven’t shared intimacies before. Tell me all about this thing you have with Bruce.”_

_He let the arrow fly, a fierce satisfaction filling his chest as he watched go through Loki who evaporated like smoke._

_“Question remains, little Hawk. Is this play a comedy or a tragedy?” the voice whispered as the dream faded away._

Clint surfaced, too warm and twisted up in the covers; weighted down by the Hulk’s large frame on one side and Bruce’s body on the other, he had to shove the blanket and sheet down with his feet until he could draw his legs out to cool off.  Turning towards Bruce, Clint curved around him, resting his head on Bruce’s shoulder; as he sank back to sleep, he felt the easy touch of a big hand on his back. 

_Skimming his hand down the curve of Bruce’s chest, Clint dropped a series of light kisses upwards; the neon lights of Singapore flashing through the uncovered windows showed their shadows on the wall. Straddling Bruce’s hips, Clint held himself up, hands on either side of Bruce’s shoulders, cocks slowly rubbing together._

_“Yes, this is much better,” Clint sighed. “You and me, no Loki, no Cheshire Cats or hookah smoking caterpillars. All we need is a beach and a pitcher of margaritas, and I’d call it a vacation.”_

_The vista of Las Vegas sparkled behind them, and Bruce laughed easily. “Well, there’s a pool at least.”_

_A wave of water splattered over them, drenching Clint’s back. “Hey!” he turned. “I thought we agreed no cannonballs.”_

_“Hulk like splash.” The Big Guy swam on his back, splashing more water as he scissor-kicked his feet. “Clint and Little Guy all hot. Need to cool off.”_

_“I certainly think you’re hot,” Bruce offered; Clint’s laugh turned to a moan as Bruce rocked his hips. Bending down, he brushed his lips across Bruce’s smiling ones, kissing the corners and running his tongue along the lower lip. Water drops trailed down his neck and back, hair wet, the coolness welcome in the evening heat._

_The breeze blew in from the open doors, the soft bed beneath them, mirror on the ceiling above them; Clint reached out for the tube on the bedside table, slicking up his fingers and sliding them into Bruce, eliciting gasps of pleasure, and then Clint eased his cock inside the tight heat. He knew he was dreaming, knew that this was all connected to the spheres and the radiation, but, god, Bruce felt so good that Clint wanted nothing more than to sink in and stay there, enjoy the feeling of being joined like this, connected in the most intimate of ways._

_“Clint,” Bruce breathed his name. “We can do anything. The three of us.”_

_The stars filled the black velvet of the desert sky above them, sleeping bag beneath them. A hand caressed his back, gentle despite the size, stroking along his spine; lips pressed kisses to his neck as he slid out and back into Bruce. Big fingers traced along his muscles, curved over his ass, teased him, pushed inside, just one bigger than three of Bruce’s. The fullness was nothing he’d ever felt before, a completeness that heated him up. A part of his brain knew this should hurt, that he wasn’t ready, that the Hulk had never shown interest in sex, but this was a only a dream. All the details melted away when that questing finger brushed his prostate and a white haze of bliss overtook him. Bruce moaned beneath him, writhing and begging for harder, faster, more; the Hulk was behind him driving him towards an orgasm like he’d never felt before. Body caught between the two, he let go and let them hold him, dragging him up to the very high edge. A sense of buoyance, like floating on the surface of a calm lake, hovered just out of reach …_

“Fuck,” Clint whispered as he shot awake, aching hard cock demanding attention. He almost couldn’t think, his body’s needs so great; groaning softly, he shifted his hips, trying to ease the pressure. Rolling onto his back, he started at the ceiling, breathing deeply, trying to put the dream … or whatever it was … out of his mind.

“Clint,” Bruce’s hand dragged along Clint’s hand, running up his arm, lingering on his bicep, coming to rest on his neck. “Did you just dream …”

“Oh, hell, Bruce, that was so hot,” Clint murmured, turning his face into Bruce’s palm, letting the heat play through his skin.  His brown eyes, wide blown with lust, met Clint’s blue-grey ones, and did nothing to lower the rampant desire that ran through Clint.

“Fuck it.” Bruce turned on his side, lifted himself upon one elbow and kissed Clint, demanding and hard, tongue forcing his way in; Clint let him, opening up to Bruce’s invasion, the dream still playing in his head. He knew the Hulk was sleeping just to his left, but he didn’t care. He wanted Bruce, wanted him to fill him up and make him whole; the strange last couple of days had him completely off-balance, and Clint knew he needed the other two as much as they needed him.

Green fingers stroked Clint’s chest, traced the elastic band of his briefs and down his leg. Turning his head, he saw the Hulk’s brown eyes, so much like Bruce’s, watching them; lying on his stomach, the Hulk was rubbing his hips against the bed, huffing as he did. “Hulk dream. Want to help, not just watch.”

“Um, I ... Bruce, you okay with this?” Clint asked, drawing away from Bruce long enough to speak; he body certainly was screaming ‘yes’ but he had to make sure.

“Surprisingly, yes. You said it yourself. We’re package deal.” Bruce cupped Clint’s face, tenderly holding him and gazing into his eyes for a moment before his kissed him again, a kiss that went on forever, dragging every emotion out of Clint as the Hulk’s fingers caressed Clint’s exposed skin. Clint groaned as Bruce’s mouth moved along his chin, down his neck, and, oh, god, he was going to have bruises all along his collarbone, and he didn’t give a damn.  His cock jerked as big fingers brushed along the aching curve of it, gentle and easy, and he wanted more, wanted to be full, to be claimed, to be between them; he arched up into Bruce’s mouth as the Hulk tugged his briefs off, releasing his cock.

“I don’t have anything,” Clint groaned. “We can’t …”

“I’ve got something,” Bruce broke off and rolled off the bed; he picked up his khakis and pulled out his wallet, taking out some small packets. “Single size packages I saw at the store one day.” He laughed a little as he ripped one open, spreading the sticky gel on his fingers. “Knowing you, I like to always be prepared.”  He didn’t lie back down, getting on his knees instead, reaching a hand to pull Clint up. Lacing his arm under Clint’s shoulders and across his chest to hold him upright, Bruce rested Clint’s head on his shoulder, his back to against Bruce’s front.

“Don’t worry,” Bruce whispered. “We’ve got you.”

The brown depths of the Big Guy’s eyes watched as Bruce slid the first slick finger inside; Clint was so worked up from the dream, so ready, that it didn’t take long for him to loosen up for a second.  The Hulk shifted onto his side, one hand painting long strokes wherever he could reach on Clint’s body, the other lazily stroking his own arousal. Closing his eyes, Clint focused on the sensations of the touches, from feather light caresses of the Hulk to the growing insistent thrust of Bruce’s fingers that demanded a response, and he felt himself floating upwards on the rising tide of tension, body responding as the buzz of worry in his head.  It wasn’t going to take much, but he wanted to draw it out as long as possible, so he inhaled deep breaths, filling his lungs with air and slowly releasing it, thinking of the last part of the dream, the sensation of floating, trying to recapture it.

“You ready?” Bruce whispered in his ear, and he nodded his assent, bracing his body by tightening his thigh muscles and pushing back against the Hulk’s hand on his chest, balancing himself as Bruce’s cock slowly entered him in increments until he was seated deeply inside of Clint. God, but he loved this moment, before the headlong rush to completion, one perfect breath that felt like coming home as much as coming together. Bruce loved it too, murmuring the words as his mouth opened against the skin along Clint’s neck, telling him how much Clint meant to him. A pause from lust for something deeper … and then Bruce shifted, slipping back out and pushing back in and they fell together back into physicality of the act, sweaty skin, ragged breaths, clenched fists.

He thought it was more than he could handle and then he felt the first tentative taste of the Hulk’s tongue, rough and coarse along the tight skin of his cock; he looked down, tangled his hands in the brown hair, and groaned as he held on. Gaining confidence from Clint’s reaction, the Hulk swirled around the head, tracing along the length, taking the whole in one swipe and then sucking lightly. Inexperienced and messy, it was still a hell of a first attempt, and the Big Guy hummed happily, the vibrations rocking through Clint’s gut and pushing him to the brink.

“Fuck, I’m going to …” He fought to stop it, wanting to give both of them pleasure in return before he climaxed.

“Let go. We’ve got you,” Bruce promised, so Clint did, muscles contracting before he came, crying out as he fell into a well of nothing but bliss, physically rung dry, emotionally numb. He found himself floating on a calm sea of euphoria, outside of his own body, knowing what was happening, but at peace in a way he’d never been before. He knew when Bruce thrust for the last time, following Clint over the cliff; he saw the Hulk roll onto his back, finish himself off with a few hard pulls and lay wheezing loudly, arms flung out to either side. And still he drifted in the haze of the afterglow; eyes closed, breathing leveling out nice and even, brain shut to everything but the awareness of the tremors in his body.

“Clint?” Bruce’s voice roused him and he slipped out of the place, coming back to reality; his head was lying on the Hulk’s thigh, his feet across Bruce’s legs.

“Hmmmmmmm,” he managed to make some noise in response.

“You’ve haven’t moved in the last five minutes.” Bruce sat up and looked at him; Clint was sure his pupils were dilated, his body warm and shivering at the same time.

“Ummmm, yeah, do I have to?” He got his hand to cooperate and patted the Big Guy’s calf. “I’m fine right here for a bit.”

The Hulk rumbled as he pushed Clint’s head off so he could get out of bed. “Little guy usually take care of that. Hulk need shower,” he said with a huff, and Clint was suddenly giggling at the retreating naked back.

“Well, guess that finally answers the question about the Hulk’s preferences.” He couldn’t seem to stop himself from laughing. “Damn Bruce, whatever that was, I would certainly not mind doing it again. If you’re okay with it. I mean, I don’t want you to think that …”

“Shut up, Clint.” Bruce gave him a quick kiss as he got up. “I need a nice hot shower and some clean clothes. So get your lazy ass out of bed.” He grabbed Clint’s ankle and tugged him towards the edge. “It’s your rule that there’s no apologizing for amazingly earth-shattering sex anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read my other Hulkeye stories, you might not recognize the locations in that very sexy dream... Singapore, Las Vegas and the Nevada desert. All refer to past scenes from Clint & Bruce's story.
> 
> I have also included a link to the Lichtenstein painting referenced here. Tony would soooooo do that.


	5. Sleepin' in the Spotlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know this part,” Clint sat down on the chair, pushing off a pile of cups that clattered to the hard floor of the practice room. “Know thyself. There is no spoon. I’m not the one. Question is, who are you? Everyone else has been someone I know.”
> 
> With a crinkle around her eyes, she smiled at him. “What’s really going to bake your noodle later is why you didn’t see it sooner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my favorite thing I've written so far. Having so much fun with it all. Hope you're enjoying it too. The plotting is blowing my mind. :)

Clint checked his watch as he put the tea in to steep, the aroma of chai wafting up on the steam. Stranger things had happened, but he’d found he actually enjoyed some of the darker, more flavorful teas, and they even had enough caffeine to jumpstart his brain in the morning. This new obsession was all Bruce’s fault. Not that he needed a jump after his morning … um … activities – now that was all three of their fault and it wasn’t a bad thing at all. He got two mugs from the cabinet – his favorite “Winter is Coming” and a Cyberdine one for Bruce – and turned to set them down on the counter, but it was already cluttered with towers of cups, porcelain and china mixed in with funny sayings and odd shapes. Loki sat on the middle stool, long black leather coat spread out behind him, hair slicked back, dark shades covering his eyes. Clint’s HK P30 was smooth in his hand, his finger caressing the trigger, aimed directly between those blue eyes.

_“You’re getting better at that,” Loki nodded at the gun. “Faster and more complex items. I’d suggest you’ve been practicing, but from the bits I can glean, I think you’ve been busy with other things.”_

_Sliding the safety off, he circled the Asgardian, eye on the target. “With you around, I suspect we’ll need guns. Lots of guns. Going to tell me what’s going on?”_

_Tipping his top hat, Loki smirked, velvet clad elbow knocking a stack of cups as he turned. “As I’ve explained, I know only that you’ve somehow managed to bring me into this dream vision of yours; how you’ve gotten into this dimension to do so is a mystery, considering father himself closed it off. Perhaps you should be asking the others you’ve dragged into your personal fantasy as well.”_

_“What others ….” Clint stopped as the stars wheeled above him on the planetarium ceiling, the hard backed seat reclining behind his head. A voice droned about the constellations, the story of Orpheus descending into Hades._

_“Amazing, isn’t it?” Eric Selvig asked, awe in his eyes as he looked up at the night sky; together they watched as galaxies, the whole universe itself, expanded and contracted. “There? See?” He pointed and the black turned to liquid silver and rose to meet the tip of his finger. “M87. So many questions, so few answers.”_

_“Dr. Selvig, what are you doing?” Clint watched as the silver began to slide up the doctor’s finger, covering it to the knuckle._

_“The knowledge, think about the knowledge, Agent Barton!” His eyes glowed with excitement. “To understand the mysteries of this universe and others beyond.” The silver oozed further up to his palm._

_“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Clint reached for Selvig’s hand, intending to pull it back, but Selvig shifted on the toadstool, drew the pipe back to his mouth and took another pull, smoke drifting from his nostrils, the sweet cloying smell overtaking Clint’s senses._

_“Who are you?” he asked, eyes closing as he drifted off into the stars. “Why are you here?”_

“Clint? Hey, where are you, buddy?” Steve asked, touching his arm lightly. “You look like your brain had checked out there for a minute.”

“Yeah, I guess I was a million miles away,” he answered, shaking his head to clear it, but the smell of the hookah pipe remained, making him lightheaded and more than a little dizzy. He glanced at the clock on the stove; less than a minute had passed since he started to make tea. A nagging suspicion scratched at his consciousness; it would be early on the west coast, but he suddenly felt the urgent need to check in with Selvig.

Under Steve’s concerned eyes, Clint took out his phone, dialed, and let it ring until an automated voice answered. Then he dialed again; Darcy finally answered on the fourth try. “Yeah, I know what time it is,” Clint cut off any protests he knew the woman would make, “but this is an emergency, Darce. I need you to check on Dr. Selvig for me and let me know what you find, even if he’s okay. Yes. I know. I’m screwing with your beauty sleep. Just do it, okay? I happen to know Stark is coming out with a better MP3 player, and I’ll see you get one of the first ones if you do this for me. Thanks.”

“Something we need to worry about?” Steve gently nudged when Clint fell back into silence after he ended the call, his brain circling through the last few days.

“Not sure yet. Just a hunch,” he automatically responded because he really didn’t know how the pieces fit together, just that there was a pattern, hovering outside of his grasp, flirting with his mind.

“Well, how about you tell me all about it while you fly us up to SUNY Binghamton to pick up equipment from Dr. Lawson’s labs? Seems he’s made some modifications on his own stuff and Tony thinks it’s more sensitive and would help identify possible outbreaks. I need a pilot, if you’re up for it.” For a split second, Steve looked at his pocket watch, and then the image was gone, just Steve in his button-down oxford shirt and khaki pants.

“Sure, yeah, I can do that. Bruce will probably be in the lab all day and the Hulk said something about smashing some helicopters, so I’m free. Just give me five to tell them where I’m off to.” He didn’t have to explain to Steve his need to say goodbye; with everything that had happened, it was a perfectly normal reaction. In fact, they should all get into the habit of touching base more often considering the very real possibility that every time they left the tower might be their last.

* * *

 

One thing that Clint had learned about Steve Rogers was that the man had the patience of a saint, a very good trait for someone involved with Tony Stark. Captain America would make battlefield decisions in an instant, issuing orders and expecting them to be obeyed, but Steve Rogers was content to wait for others to make the first move, giving Clint time to pull his thoughts together before he began talking about the dreams or visions or whatever the hell they were. It was long past time for Clint to deal with them and now, with the frantic call after takeoff from Jane Foster, unable to wake Eric Selvig, Clint was sure his dreams were central to whatever was happening. So he laid them out for Steve, a piece at a time, like a jigsaw puzzle missing some vital elements – glossing over some of the sexier parts. Tony would probably demand blow-by-blow commentary later.

“So I’m the White Rabbit?” Steve didn’t interrupt until Clint had been through it all once; only after Clint started working back into the specifics did Steve start to ask pointed questions, pushing Clint to remember more. “I guess it makes sense. I was late, after all.”

Clint was surprised. “That didn’t occur to me, but it fits, doesn’t it? Tony as the Red Queen – not that he’s chopped anyone’s heads off lately, but he can be impulsive, to say the least.  Bruce was the dormouse and Selvig was the caterpillar. And Loki as the Mad Hatter?”

“Perfect casting is perfect casting,” Steve offered.

“Sleeping or awake, they’re like dreams, all condensed, jumping from place to place, allusions to other things. At first I thought they were just memories; first time I saw Loki he was repeating things he’d said before, but then he changed, like he was talking to me. And Selvig? That was strange.” Clint began their descent towards the airstrip where a car waited.

“Well, Selvig was exposed to the Tesseract, just like you. And Loki controlled the damn thing,” Steve suggested.

“Yeah, but you or Tony or Bruce didn’t have anything to do with it, and you were all there, too.” Clint laughed. “I feel like Dorothy. And you were the scarecrow and you were the tin man …”

“Hey, at least you’re picking classics; even I’ve seen _The Matrix_.” Steve checked his seatbelt and prepared for landing.  “Soon as we get back, we should get everyone together and put all the brainpower towards figuring out how it all relates.”

“Agreed,” Clint dropped the landing gear; they coasted in easily, taxing into the hanger. The university was a short drive across the winter landscape of upstate New York and security was waiting for them just outside the building that housed Lawson’s lab. The guard introduced himself as Jake, a retired state police officer, and he let them in with his own keys, even helped them carry the bulkiest of the machines out to the car.

“It’s the least I can do for Dr. Lawson, considering. Man helped me when my wife went through a cancer scare; had one of those lumps and the doctors told her it was nothing.  Lawson told me I had to get a second opinion, pretty much insisted; turns out the test was wrong and she did have cancer, but it was small enough and early enough to catch it. She’d have gone through a lot of misery if we hadn’t listened to him,” Jake was saying as they came back into the lab for the last piece of equipment. “Can’t believe it, really, but it is true that people can change.”

As Steve picked up the small white machine, Clint turned …

_“… the degradation is increasing, isn’t it?” Tony asked, leaning over Bruce’s shoulder to check the read-out on the screen. “I’ve talked to Pym – he’s working the nanotech angle. But Carol’s readings are different; it’s like new genetic material, which makes no sense whatsoever.”_

_“We just don’t have enough data to really know what we’re dealing with,” Bruce took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, sure signs a headache was brewing. He was pale, dark circles evident under his brown eyes._

_“Data, data, data. You people are so caught up in your logic that you can’t see the forest for the trees.” Loki leaned an elbow on the table, black t-shirt tucked into black jeans, hair short and curly around the sunglasses perched on his head, absent the usual gel. He looked, well, almost human. “Relying on machines, no matter how advanced, rather than listening to your instincts.”_

_“Okay, okay, I give. What am I supposed to be paying attention to?” Clint exclaimed, frustrated with the inability to make sense of it all._

_Natasha leaned in towards him, forcing him back against the concrete pole, black leather encasing her body, hugging her curves, hair slicked back, lips a hypnotic red. “I can’t explain everything to you. I brought you here to warn you. You’re in a lot of danger.”_

_“What? What are you talking about Nat?” The music was so loud he could barely hear her, much less understand what she was saying._

_“They’re watching you. The truth is out there, Clint. It’s looking for you and it will find you if you let it.” She pulled away and smiled, turning to walk away, a white rabbit tattooed on her shoulder._

_“You know what that plaque means?” She was middle-aged, a lovely black woman wearing a comfortable floral outfit, looking completely out of place in the scorching heat of the desert. On the cave wall was a wooden sign that said Temet Nosce._

_“I know this part,” Clint sat down on the chair, pushing off a pile of cups that clattered to the hard floor of the practice room. “Know thyself. There is no spoon. I’m not the one. Question is, who are you? Everyone else has been someone I know.”_

_With a crinkle around her eyes, she smiled at him. “What’s really going to bake your noodle later is why you didn’t see it sooner.”_

“Clint?” Steve’s voice interrupted and suddenly he was back in the lab. He gave them both a smile as he jerked his brain back into gear.

“Sorry, brain wandered off there for a second. You were saying something about the change in Dr. Lawson?” He nodded to the security guard.

“After the accident, yeah. Completely different guy. I hate to say it, but he was a real piece of work before. Guess almost dying will do that to you, like Ebenezer Scrooge or something.” Jake locked the door behind them as they left and followed them out to the Suburban.

“Accident?” Steve prompted and a tendril of interest curled in Clint’s brain, one more thread to pull.

“His lab blew up, not really sure about the why, just that he was cutting corners, trying to work at home.  Heard that he should have died, but was lucky. A big metal hood fell and protected him.” Jake gave them a pleasant smile. “Hey, tell him that I asked about him, okay? Man doesn’t have any family, but he’s got friends here now.”

As they drove away, Steve did that waiting thing again, and Clint was grateful of the minutes to put his jumbled thoughts in order. So many new details, tidbits of information filtered through; they got to the airfield, loaded the equipment and Clint made short work of takeoff, turning the nose of the jet back to Stark Tower.

“So, new subject while we have a few minutes?” Steve asked, sensing that Clint needed the change; sometimes, connections clicked when he quit looking at them straight on and let them drift to the corner of his eye.

“Hit me, Cap. I could use the distraction.”

“Okay, well, it’s, um, about sex. I need advice and wasn’t sure who else to ask.” Steve kept his eyes ahead on the clouds scuttling beneath them, a light blush on his cheeks.

“I’m honored, really. Go for it,” Clint bit his lip to keep the grin off his face.

“I’ve been researching and, well, most of what I find on the internet is quite, um, exaggerated, at least I hope so.”

“Oh, hell, Steve, you haven’t been looking at internet porn have you?” Clint shook his head in wonder at the thought of Captain America trolling porn sites. “Those guys are all enhanced, and exaggerated is a good word for their stamina … for most of us vanilla mortals anyway.” He winked at Steve, mostly just to watch the man’s face get even redder.

“I know that. It’s just, I mean, I haven’t done a … certain act, done it or had it done to me, and I’m just not sure how to figure out the whole ‘who’s on top’ question …” Steve ran out of steam, letting the words peter out on their own accord.

“Ah, I see.” And Clint did. It was an important question, one that Tony would shrug off, refusing to make a choice, afraid to drive Steve away, but Steve would want it all thought out beforehand. “Okay, first, and very importantly, you don’t have to do it at all. Lots of guys don’t. Sex isn’t just penetration; hands, mouths, and good old fashion friction are enough for many people. If you’re doing those things, you’re having sex, and you don’t have to do any more than that. Period.”

Steve’s smile could light up a room, and he gave Clint the full wattage version. “Are you telling me that if Tony is pressuring me, you’ll kick his ass?”

“In his precious iron suit, no less. An arrow right up the backside,” Clint joked back, not that he thought Tony was doing that. But the man wasn’t always the brightest bulb when it came to understanding other people’s feelings, so he could be inadvertently assuming what Steve wanted. “So, I take it, you’re amenable to the whole ass thing?”

“Oh, I knew this wouldn’t be an easy conversation,” Steve gave a hearty laugh as he scrubbed a hand across his face. “Good thing I like it hard then.”

“And that’s why you and Tony are going to work out just fine,” Clint said. “Truth is, it’s a negotiation. You both have to be willing to say what you want and not play the whole ‘whatever you want’ game. If you want to be on top, tell him; I have full faith that Tony will take you whichever way he can get you. Man’s been trying to get in your pants … or get you in his, as the case maybe … long enough that he’ll let you call the shots. Then, be sure you take your time. Lube … you know about the new silicone kind, right? Best stuff around … lots and lots of it. Don’t get all sorts of romantic notions about it either; first times aren’t all fireworks and hearts and roses.” He caught Steve’s wide eyes. “TMI, Cap?”

“No, no, that’s what I wanted to know. It’s just, yeah, I’m kind of old-fashioned …”

“Really?” Clint drawled.

Steve lightly slapped Clint on the shoulder. “I want it to mean something, you know?”

“Absolutely. I’m kind of jealous, you know. I was young and stupid, and pretty drunk I might add, and it might be nice to have another first time.” Clint grinned, half-aware that Steve had done a damn good job of taking his mind off of the strange dreams, glad to have a normal moment in the middle of all the chaos. Even if he was talking about Tony Stark’s sex life.

* * *

 

“Alright, so, here’s what we’ve learned about the events,” Tony spread out the data on various screens. The conference room was packed; Clint wasn’t sure why Maria Hill had returned to Stark Tower, or whether she’d ever even left, but she was standing at parade rest right behind Phil Coulson who was back in one of his trademark suits, albeit one that was looser than it had been before, tie perfect as always. He looked wan and tired, but Clint knew wild horses couldn’t keep the man’s nose out of this. Carol and Lawson were there too; she was energetic and excited, he was nervous but interested. Bruce was next to Clint, exhaustion written on his face; Clint had his hand on Bruce’s knee under the table and it was a testament to how the man felt that he had tangled his fingers with Clint’s. Normally, Bruce would be focused on the problem at hand; now he sagged back into the chair. Thor and Steve were opposite them with the Hulk scrunched up along the wall behind them; minutes after Tony started talking, Natasha slipped in the back, making her way around to empty seat beside Clint. “They’re growing exponentially. We’d expect a correlation -- the larger the gamma signature, the bigger the event – but this has not shown to be true. Here in Arizona, we had only a small pocket of Potassium-40, but we got Godzillas. In Russia, according to Natasha’s data, we had a larger working mine, but the reaction was hallucinations among a small number of the population, nothing of the same scope.”

“I wouldn’t say soldiers believing they were being attacked by Napoleon’s army and opening fire was a small thing,” Natasha argued.

“Agreed.” Tony nodded. “But it should have been worse if the amount of gamma was the only factor. Basically, from what we can confirm, the amount of naturally occurring gamma radiation is mitigated by the gamma exposure of the life form in question. The lizards lived in irradiated underground pools, so they were ready to pop. Same with the asteroid – really high levels of gamma on that puppy. But the soldiers had less exposure, thus, less of an effect.”

“So everyone affected has had some exposure to gamma?” Hill asked, eyes narrowing in on the data streaming across the screens.

“Exactly. Bruce and the Big Guy, Carol – through lab exposure. Clint, Phil, and Selvig through the Tesseract,” Tony confirmed.

“How is Dr. Selvig?” Coulson asked Thor.

“He is still asleep and cannot be awakened; Assistant Director Hill has arranged for him to be flown here for testing. Jane and Darcy will be accompanying him.” Thor was obviously concerned. “Had Hawkeye not called this morning, they might not have recognized the problem so soon. Eric was not due in the lab until tomorrow.”

All eyes turned on Clint.

“And just how did you know to make that call, Agent Barton?” Hill asked, eyes narrowed at him in contemplation. 

“Look, humor me for a minute.” He took a deep breath, wondering just where to start. Staring at the screens in front of him, he stood and walked to the nearest one. He started moving the data, making a series of lists.  “Question to me is what do these things have in common? These,” he moved the images representing Arizona, the asteroid, Russia, Selvig, and Phil into one column, “are exactly what Tony was talking about. Unknown radiation reacts with gamma, and we get Harryhausen lizards, ghost armies, flybys. Phil wakes up. Selvig doesn’t. And I start having dreams.” He added himself to the bottom of the list.

“Dreams? What do your sexual fantasies have to do with anything?” Tony asked. “I mean, sure, I’m game to hear them, but ….”

“Tony. It’s important,” Steve said.

“They started with dreams while I was asleep, but now I see them during the day, can interact with them, control things in them.” He gave them the run down, leaving out the sex parts, just noting that he dreamed about the Hulk and Bruce too and the different locations. As expected, Tony took offense at being the Red Queen, insisting that Natasha was a better choice, but she was very satisfied to be cast as Trinity instead.

“So what do they mean?” Bruce asked. “Been a long time since I studied Freud, but I seem to remember that dream interpretation is about symbols.”

“Freud also said, ‘a cigar is sometimes just a cigar’,” Carol said. It was nice to have her sass back, Clint thought.

“I think each one of us reacted in ways that fit our personalities. Coulson is a stubborn hard ass who refused to die.” Clint smiled at his friend; Phil nodded in return, humor dancing in his eyes. “So Phil gets up and walks away from his sick bed. Selvig was in awe of what the Tesseract showed him.”

“Yes, he has spoken of how bereft he has felt at the loss of the visions he saw,” Thor agreed.

“So Selvig sees the universe and gets sucked in.” He tapped his name on the screen. “And me …”

“Your brain starts putting the pieces together, looking for the plan behind it all. Measuring distances and targets.” Bruce’s voice was just a little proud as he supplied the answer. “The dreams are your way of answering the questions. Still doesn’t explain how you knew about the Potassium-40 or Selvig.”

“Or the increasing degradation of the sample?” He looked right at Bruce and caught the tell-tale blink that gave it away. The man was keeping secrets and Clint knew exactly what he wouldn’t want to talk about. But that was for later. “It’s like intuitive leaps, jumping further ahead. But we’re missing a few things here on our list.”

He started a second column and added the appearances of energy spheres – on the street with the Hulk, in the park where Bruce appeared, in the cave in Arizona, and Carol’s hospital room. He hummed as he started connecting the dots; Tony took up the song. _One of these is not like the other; one of these just doesn’t belong._

“See the difference?” He asked the room; he was met by confusion, concentration, and frustration. “Okay, let’s try it this way. For the scientists in the room: you’re running an experiment and get an unexpected reaction. What do you do?”

“Run it again, same conditions, to see if it was a fluke,” Carol said.

“If it happens again, try to isolate what’s causing the results,” Lawson offered.

“Separate that element out, and try the experiment under more controlled conditions,” Bruce said.

“Hope to hell you’ve just discovered something new that you can patent,” Tony joined in with a grin, but the smile faded as he understood. “Damn. The first ones are discrepant events. But these? These are targeted. Goddamn it to hell. Someone’s playing with us.”

“Wait, what?” Hill asked, confused.

“Think of it as if we were being scanned and something pinged. Now, they’ve isolated test subjects; the first thing they did was separate the Hulk and Bruce into their two parts, gamma and human.” Clint noted the Hulk’s growl of displeasure and knew he’d hate the idea of a being a lab rat. Again.

“They? Who are we talking about here?” Hill demanded.

“How the hell are we supposed to know that?” Tony argued back. “Not like they’ve knocked on the door and asked us to bend over, please.”

Clint blinked and then …

_Bruce’s head was on the table as he snored lightly. Tony waved a scepter at Hill, who stood in silence, clad in black leather, her hair short and spiky, eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. Steve rubbed his hands in worry, passing his watch back and forth between his fingers. The Hulk faded into shadow, nothing but an angry grimace left behind._

_“We are so problematic, we humans,” Selvig said; Clint turned to see the man standing beside him with a distant gaze._

_“Dr. Selvig. You need to wake up.” Clint shook the other man’s shoulders._

_“There is so much to know yet, still to see,” the doctor insisted. Clint spun him around and pointed towards the data._

_“Look! Can’t you see what’s happening?” Clint practically shouted._

_“Interesting. So this is how you see everyone?” Coulson spoke, sitting comfortably in his leather arm chair, waving his hand toward the desert in front of them, crumbling city on the horizon. “Residual self-image indeed.”_

_“Phil, thank god.” Clint sank down in the matching chair, the ancient TV set playing an old Disney movie.  “What the hell is going on? Is this real?”_

_“What is real? This is more like a sparring program, a place to learn, to understand.” Coulson stood and stepped across the black and white chessboard. “Everyone falls the first time, Clint. Only you can walk the path.”_

_“Damn it, why won’t anyone give me a straight answer!” Clint shouted._

_“Because you don’t know where you’re going, so it doesn’t matter which direction you go.” Long blonde hair held back by a ribbon, the little girl was dressed in a blue pinafore, black mary janes on her feet. “You’re mad as a hatter, but then, all the best people are.”_

_“You have to choose, Clint.” Phil held out his hands; in one was a bottle of brilliant blue liquid that read ‘drink me.’ In the other was a small cake with red frosting that said ‘eat me.’_

_“Right. If I pick the blue one, I go on with my life. The red one?” He looked askance at Coulson, who merely shrugged._

_“Find out how deep the rabbithole goes. Sorry. You know I had to say it.”_

_He grabbed the red pill and swallowed it, the song playing in his ears as he turned to see them all stretched out, jacks plugged into the back of their heads, eyes moving behind their closed lids._

_“One of these is not like the others,” Alice sang as she skipped around them. “Ring around the rosey, pockets full of poesys, ashes, ashes, we all fall down.”_

“… look like you’re going to fall over,” Bruce slipped his hand under Clint’s elbow, guiding him towards a chair. Clint glanced at the anxious faces all around them; even Hill was concerned as he weaved a little, trying to pull himself together. “Sit down before you fall down.”

_One of these doesn’t belong_ ….

Carol was moving his direction, Natasha ready to catch him, even Coulson was on his feet.

_Pockets full of poesys_ …

It clicked. Or the cake worked. Or the pill or something, but Clint put two and two together. He was across the room in two strides, yanking Lawson up by the collar of his white coat, slamming him into the wall next to the Hulk.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” He demanded. Lawson’s eyes widened and he shrank from Clint’s hostility.

“I … I’m Walter Lawson, you know that,” the doctor sputtered.

“Clint, what the hell are you doing?” Tony grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away, but Steve laid a cautionary hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“You said it yourself Tony. New genetic material. The sphere split the Hulk and Bruce but it combined Carol’s DNA with something else. Something we’ve never seen before. Something alien.” He pulled the bowstring back, holding the arrow taut, string vibrating.  “And the only other DNA in that sphere was this guy, Walter Lawson, the man who miraculously survived a lab explosion and changed his personality overnight. Who just happened to be an expert on radiation sickness and was in the right place at the right time. Answer the question: What the hell are you?”

“All very good questions,” Hill spoke quietly from behind him. “And I’ll add one more.  Considering you came in here without it, where the hell did your bow come from, Clint?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I had to make Natasha Trinity and I know Tony would hate being the red queen, but he does love the color red. Coulson as Morpheus and Loki as the Mad Hatter? Too good to pass up


	6. Go Ask Alice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moments like these were the biggest surprise to Clint; he thought he’d understood relationships and pretty much sucked at them. But the longer he and Bruce were together, the more he learned he didn’t know anything at all. Like how simply sitting and feeling the rise and fall of Bruce’s chest against his own could be as intimate an act as sex itself. How saying nothing at all was saying everything. He’d never thought that he’d be this content with his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now Indiana Jones. It's all Hill's fault. I'm being a little mean to Maria here because the Hulk wouldn't like her very much. Don't worry. She's going to get a chance to redeem herself very soon.

In the end, the knowledge he could bring to the table trumped the urge to throw the alien bastard into a dark hole and keep Lawson … or Mar-Vell as it turned out his name really was … locked up. Oh, he was going to find himself out of circulation when this was over, but, at the moment, he had information they needed and the Hulk was parked right behind his chair, ready to stop any attempts to escape.

“Please, understand this. I want to help you, truly. I have come to respect the people of this world and, if my suspicions are correct, you are in grave danger. Maybe. I don’t know for sure. I am uncomfortable making intuitive leaps, but I cannot ignore what is happening here.” Mar-Vell spoke eloquently, his eyes glancing at Carol as he talked about respect. Clint didn’t need to have visions to know that the man … alien? … had a thing for the blonde scientist. He had thrown himself in front of the sphere to save her which was a big clue.

“Take the leap.” Hill’s voice was like daggers of ice; she’d been the most vocal in arguing to lock him up immediately.

“I have no proof, and on my world, we gather data first, make hypotheses and come only to logical conclusions,” he began hesitantly.

“Just because you see a pattern that others don’t, doesn’t mean it’s not provable.” Carol smiled at him, and Clint wondered if she was starting to return the affection. Talk about Romeo and Juliet, if that was true.

“There are four gamma anomalies recorded in our databases with no scientific explanation; all of them ended in a disastrous chain of events. Galandra 4.  Marituna. The Kingdom of Crowded Stars. Pelius 14.” He nodded towards the screen, and Tony pulled up a star chart. With a few flicks of his fingers, Mar-Vell highlighted the four locations, scattered across the known universe.

“I know of the Seerers of Martu. Long in wisdom, slow to anger. We counted them an ally until they were decimated by an asteroid strike,” Thor said, sadness in his eyes. “I do not understand why they could not foresee its coming as their magic was strong.”

“Because there was no warning. The asteroid was supposed to pass by within a safe distance, but changed trajectory at the last minute. There was no time for a defense.”

“Let me guess, a strong gamma presence in the asteroid?” Tony asked.

“In all the cases, the gamma radiation was naturally occurring but reacting in unusual ways. A string of volcanic eruptions on Galandra after the collapse of a mine. Mutated animal attacks on Pelius. And mass hallucinations started a rebellion among the Kingdom’s fiefdoms,” Mar-Vell confirmed. “And now on Earth, only this time we can isolate the precipitating agent. In the other cases, we could investigate only after the fact.”

Clint’s hand smoothed over the curve of his bow, the solid feel of the string brushing against his fingers, fletching on the single arrow stiff. As the conversation ebbed around him, he tried to pull up the memory of reaching for it, but there was only the sound of the little girl’s song and then the weight of the draw. He literally had no answer for Hill’s question and all this talk of leaps of faith and other worlds was knocking around in his brain. Bruce touched his arm lightly, and Clint turned …

_“You can’t save him if you’re dead.” Loki was dressed in a Nazi SS uniform, down to the hat perched on his short black hair. “You have to ask yourself what you believe in, Barton.” The cavern had high ceilings shrouded in shadows._

_Bruce was bleeding out in his arms, coughing red blood, surprise on his face. “You can do it. I have faith in you.”_

_“Son of a bitch, I am going to wipe that smug smile off your face,” Clint lunged at Loki who evaded him, bending sideways, in slow motion, avoiding Clint’s fist._

_“Now, now, Barton, this is your vision, not mine. I just play my part.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans, kicked up some dust from the cavern floor with his boots. “Although this is a new one, if I’m not mistaken. No more Alice or Neo? Fortunately Father forgot to cut off my cable subscription so I can keep up with your mind’s twists and turns.”_

_The pathway ended abruptly, a deep rocky chasm yawning before him, and he spun his arms to keep his balance on the edge._

_“Friend Barton!” Thor called from behind him, tie pulled down, collar open. “You must hurry. Come quickly!” He was kneeling, holding Bruce’s head in his large hands._

_“Everyone falls the first time. I can only show you the path. You have to take the leap,” Coulson told him. Clint looked at the edge of the roof, the street filled with cars below him, at the span of distance to the opposite roof._

_“It’s a leap of faith,” Loki said, sipping his steaming hot cup of tea. “You don’t know where you’re going, but you have to choose. Interesting concept, I must say.”_

_Wouldn’t be the first time, Clint thought as he closed his eyes, took a running start and leaped into the air, black coat flying out behind him as he fell, the rabbit hole disappearing above him, darkness closing in. Then he was standing on a solid bridge, there was a door, and he opened it into a cave filled with row upon row of glowing blue boxes._

_“You must choose,” the ancient knight told him. “But choose wisely.”_

_“Okay, now you. I’ll bite. What am I choosing again?”_

_“The true cube will bring you life. The false one? Death.” The knight intoned slowly._

_“How do I know which is the right one? I’m not a scientist,” Clint protested. Cubes were cubes to him; how the hell to tell which one was the Tesseract?_

_“It’s just like being in love. No one can tell you you're in love, you just know it. Through and through. Balls to bones,” the Oracle said._

_“Okay, this is getting freakin’ weirder by the second.” Clint said._

_“Curiouser and curiouser,” little Alice agreed. “It would be nice if something made sense for a change.”_

_“Fuck this, I don’t have time to play games.” Clint scanned the rows._

_“One of these is not like the others,” Hill said, standing beside him. “I trust you. Make the choice.”_

_His fingers closed on the one that pulsed in time to Bruce’s weakening heartbeat …_

“ … why Earth?” Tony was saying as the room came back into focus. “There has to be a connection.”

“The Tesseract.” Clint didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until everyone turned and stared at him. “What is it? I mean, yeah, I know what it is … infinite power, itty bitty living space … but where did it come from? Where has it been? Isn’t that the common denominator here? Your people created it, right Thor?”

“No. We merely made the container and that is fairly simple; your scientists here could do so as well. I do not know where the energy originally came from.  I do remember the Seerers studying it for a while. And it has not always been under our control, as you well know,” Thor answered.

“The Galandrians used a cube to power their cities, but it was taken as spoils in the war with the Krull,” Mar-Vell supplied. “I do not know of the others, however. Most who have possession of one of the cubes do not speak of it lightly.”

“One of the cubes? Wait, there’s more than the Tesseract?” Steve jumped in.

“Yes. You did not know that?” Mar-Vell seemed surprised. “But we too do not know where the energy comes from. The cubes merely harness it, give it … I like the phrase … an itty-bitty living space.”

“The power of the Tesseract. That’s what draws the attention. Loki does his take-over-the-world bid, throws around power like its water, waving a red flag.” At least part of this was falling into place, Clint thought.

“They run a few tests and, bam, the results go off the chart. So then we get the globes of destiny, checking us out.” Tony was nodding, keeping pace with Clint’s jack rabbiting thoughts.

“Targeting Bruce and the Big Guy,” Carol followed. “And it wasn’t just me in that room … Clint, Bruce, Phil … four for one.”

“But they’ve fucked up and don’t know it,” Tony gave a feral grin.

“How is that?” Hill demanded. “As far as I can see, they’re pulling all the strings.”

“Well, for one, they messed with the Avengers. But mostly they didn’t count on the unforeseen consequences like Clint’s visions. Bruce’s ability to adapt. The resiliency of human DNA.” Tony nodded to Carol for that last one. “And they really didn’t count on the Hulk’s reaction to being a lab rat.”

“Hulk find and smash,” the Big Guy said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, Jolly Green. We are so going to smash their asses,” Tony agreed.

* * *

 

 Bruce rubbed his eyes, pushing on the pressure points at the bridge of his nose, willing the migraine that was pounding in his head to go away. He knew his temperature was running high, but he kept staring at the numbers on his screen; he was close, he knew it. With Hank Pym on the nanotech, Carol working on the genetics angle – thank God she was a biologist – and Tony using Mar-Vell’s information to build a better scanning process, they were making progress, slowly, but moving forward. Now that they were focusing on the Tesseract, things were falling into place. And that was thanks to Clint; Bruce let his thoughts drift that way, remembering waking from their shared dream, the warmth of Clint’s body, his breathy moans of pleasure, the fierce joy of being inside of him. He was a rock during all of this, handling Bruce’s new situation without as much as blinking, talking to Steve about his dreams. God, but the two of them … three of them … had come so far together, and here Bruce was keeping secrets, probably screwing it up. He didn’t want to have the conversation, not until he had answers because that was the way he dealt with things. But it wasn’t fair to Clint, or the Other Guy, and he knew it. Damn it all, he was going to have to talk to them and soon.

“Bazinga!” Tony shouted. Ever since he’d started watching _The Big Bang Theory_ and insisting he was much smarter than Sheldon Cooper, he’d taken to using that phrase. Bruce’s theory was that Sheldon made Tony feel well-adjusted in comparison, but the show was really funny and they all agreed on watching it which was a minor miracle in the Tower.  “Here? See it?”

Readings appeared on the main screen. Carol cocked her head, a sign she was thinking; Bruce tried to focus enough to make sense of it, but he shouldn’t have worried. Tony couldn’t wait to explain.

“Once I started looking for the Tesseract signature, I found it. Watch closely. This is when Clint manifests his bow. See the spike?” Tony didn’t slow down enough for anyone to get a word in edgewise. “Jarvis! I want a stream for Phil and Clint for the last 24, no 48 hours and add Selvig since he’s been here. Identify Tesseract energy. Then compare to the data from the spheres, looking for the same energy readings.”

Two charts appeared, one with the three men and another for the spheres’ appearances.

“Here, here, and here,” Carol pointed out. “Clint exhibits the highest readings, but here’s when Phil woke up twice and then when the sphere was in my room; they correspond. I bet if we had Selvig’s from yesterday, we’d see a spike at those times as well.”

“And, yes! There’s Tesseract energy build up before the sphere’s appearance. If I use the original tracking program, modify it for the increased variables, use the new numbers from the not-so-good doctor, we just might be able to predict the next one.” Tony was fairly dancing with excitement.

“Well, somebody’s happy,” Clint said from the doorway, the Hulk in the hallway behind him. “But don’t hold your breath for Dancing with the Stars to call.

“You’re just jealous because you don’t have my moves, Barton,” Tony practically sang, grinning widely.

“Is that me you’re tracking? Really, Tony, if you want to know what I’m doing, all you have to do is ask.” Clint sauntered into the room and stopped behind Bruce’s chair, dropping his hands on Bruce’s shoulders, their coolness welcome as he started to massage the tense muscles. Clint always seemed to know what Bruce needed.

“That’s why I have Jarvis tape your ‘practice’ sessions,” the man smirked. “This, however, is for science. See that? That’s when you used the power of the Tesseract to bring your bow from one place to another.”

“Somehow I’m drawing on its energy?” Clint thought about it for a second then his face changed, emotions rolling through his blue-grey eyes. “Shit. Shit. That’s how I’m getting Loki out of his dimension, isn’t it? Phil’s healing. We’re using the energy ourselves. And Selvig. In a coma, mind not there, some sort of astral projection. I saw Loki do that with the staff, go off somewhere while his body was still there.”  Bruce covered Clint’s now still hands with his own, waiting, knowing they were all on the cusp of a breakthrough. “Damn. Alice. The Oracle. The Knight Templar. It’s the Tesseract. Selvig used to talk about the thing as if it was alive. Now it’s talking to me?”

“Sir,” Jarvis’s voice broke in to Clint’s stream of thought. “There is a spike in …”

The sphere that appeared was the size of a basketball, popping into existence right in the middle of the lab. But this time, something was different immediately; the tendrils lashed out with intent, one slamming into Tony, knocking him back into a table, equipment shaking and toppling over with the force.  Another shot into the main screen, arcing between computers and tablets and phones and any electronics, showers of sparks following in its wake.  The sphere darted quickly towards Carol; she raised her hands to deflect it, stumbling backwards; blue light engulfed her fingers and bolts flew, shredding into the sphere as she lifted off the ground and flew … literally flew … out of the way. The sphere lost its integrity for a few seconds then reformed and launched itself at Bruce. Clint let fly one of his disruptor arrows, the one with the mini-EMP pulse, timing it to go off just as it cut into the side of the sphere. With a tinny shriek, the thing imploded inward, turning into a spinning black vortex before it expanded out again, back to its original shape, and rocketed straight at Bruce. Big green hands slammed into side of the sphere, crushing it between his palms.

“Together,” Clint shouted to Carol who was staring at her hands in shock. “Hit it at the same time. Toss it, Big Guy.”

The Hulk threw the sphere up and Clint let a second disruptor go; it detonated at the same moment as the bolts hit. For good measure, the Hulk caught the blackened middle and crushed it with his fingers, causing it to release all of its energy. The blast tore through the room; Bruce toppled into Clint and they went down, Clint turning his back to the falling glass and metal. Bruce could see Tony curled up under the overturned table, head down.

“Tony?” Steve skidded around the corner; even though the lab was only five minutes away from the conference room by stairs, the whole encounter took no more than that. Dropping on his knees, Steve reached for Tony who was busy cussing.

“Son of a bitch! Try to ruin my lab? This chick is toast!” Tony was shouting.

“Cupid okay?” Hulk picked Clint up, brushing off the debris. “Cupid bleeding.”

“Just a few cuts, nothing to worry about,” Clint offered his hand to Bruce and started to pull him up, but Bruce’s head spun, a floating sensation as the world tilted and then he was out, losing consciousness as the headache finally won.

* * *

 

“Your favorite, shoyu ramen with bakuden, and I just might be persuaded to share my steamed pork with you since I got an order just for us.” Clint set the food out on the coffee table within reach of the big couch where Bruce was working on his tablet. “Washu beef for me and a triple order of tori ramen for the Big Guy to go along with his pork.”

“I am never going to eat that whole bowl,” Bruce looked wistfully at the large portion of noodle soup. “But I will snag one of those pork buns before you eat them all.”

“Hulk finish,” the Big Guy offered, already tipping up the first of his bowls and finishing off two of the buns.

“Guess I’m not use to having a normal appetite, and I’m still queasy from the migraine,” Bruce inhaled the soup’s delicious aroma and spooned up some of the broth.

“You remember the rules, right? No hospital bed or observation overnight and you promised to eat and rest.” Clint watched carefully as Bruce started to eat; there’d been enough of an argument already to get him to agree to slow down and take care of himself. And to tell Clint what was going on. They were so going to talk about it.

“There’s just so much to do. Carol’s new ‘powers,’ calibrating the new sensors. All that data! You destroyed one of the spheres and Jarvis has all the information. I can’t really justify sleeping when I could be solving the problems.” Despite his protestations, Bruce sank further back into the cushions, the soup disappearing rather quickly. After a few more spoonfuls, he sighed. “Okay, maybe I needed to eat. I’m hungrier than I thought.”

“Little guy not good.” Hulk broached the subject with his usual lack of tact. Hey, Clint thought, the big guy was better than Tony in that area most of the time, so he got points for that. Clint merely raised an eyebrow when Bruce looked to him for help in answering.

“It’s not like I’m hiding anything …” Bruce started.

“But you don’t want to show and tell. I get it, Bruce, really I do. You want to wait until you’re sure you have the answer. You’ll tell yourself it’s because you don’t want to upset me, but it’s just as much for yourself, to avoid dealing with it. Best to just spit it out.” Clint offered Bruce another bun from the Hulk’s stack, earning them both a growl of protest. “I am the master of don’t ask, don’t tell over here; you can’t con a conman.”

Balancing his bowl between his legs, Bruce took the bun and tore off a corner, soaking up more of the broth before he ate it. “Hank Pym has a theory. He thinks that the nannites in our bodies weren’t defunct, but in fact they were dormant, could be reactivated by an external source. They had done what they were supposed to – gather our genetic data – and were waiting for further instructions.”

“The charge of the sphere’s tendril jumpstarted them. Yeah, Tony explained that.” Clint sat next to Bruce, shoulders and knees touching as they ate. “Boom. Allergic reaction just like me.”

“Except Pym thinks they got scrambled and started transmitting their data, my genetic code, a copy made while we were in Las Vegas, out into my body.”

Clint thought about that for a second. “But your DNA is different now, thanks to our mystery circle heads.”

“And that’s the problem. We don’t know how that sphere ‘made’ me, if it copied my DNA, created it wholesale, or what. All we know for sure is that it’s making the very foundations of who I am unstable.” Brown eyes were worried, Clint could see that, but also tired and unsure. Bruce had been fighting for so long, one bad turn after the other, no let up. And now this.

“How do we fix it?” There had to be an answer. Between Stark Industries, SHIELD, the best minds in the world, someone would come up with a solution. “We’ve got Amanda on ice, can’t she tell us about the nannites?”

“She doesn’t know. Pym talked to her yesterday and she bragged the whole time about what she’d done. He thinks someone else re-engineered them without her knowledge. HYDRA probably.” Bruce shook his head, reaching over to set the almost finished bowl on the table. “Pym’s got a harebrained idea of reprogramming the nannites to broadcast the new coding; he’s coming in later tonight on one of Tony’s jets. Carol thinks the two will eventually combine to create one unique strand, or we do it using new gene therapy techniques that are pretty experimental. Tony’s got top people working on it.” He dropped the back of his head onto the pillow, closing his eyes.

“Has anyone talked to the Asgardians? They may know something. And then there’s the Tesseract. It worked on Phil, maybe it could work on you.” Clint’s mind was thinking of options, but really, all he could see was Bruce, blood staining his chest, lying in his arms, and the image from his earlier vision. “Yeah, I think the Tesseract might be the way to go.”

“Little guy go into glowy circle?” Hulk suggested. Clint looked at the Big Guy because, actually, it was a good suggestion. Last ditch one, but something to put on the list. “Work before.”

“He’s got a point,” Clint turned to Bruce. “We have to keep that as a possibility.”

“Pym will be here soon, so let’s give him first crack, shall we?” Bruce was smiling, more relaxed now that he’d spilled the beans and no one had gotten angry. He picked his bowl up and went back to eating as Clint finished his meal; they chatted about mundane things when they were both done, Clint cleaning up, at least clearing off the food and tossing the empty take-out containers since the Hulk took care of any leftovers. Clint settled back down in the corner of the sectional, stretching out one leg and bending the other off the side, patting the space between his legs; Bruce rolled his eyes, but he moved, slotting his body in, resting his back on Clint’s chest, crossing his ankles as he relaxed. He brought his tablet and slipped his glasses on his nose; the Hulk took the big button remote and turned on the giant TV.

“Pick something good, Big Guy,” Clint said, resting his hands on Bruce’s thighs, wiggling a little to get comfortable or just to rub against Bruce’s ass -- both were good. He sat up straighter and peered over Bruce’s shoulder at the tablet, being sure to nuzzle the skin just above the open collar of Bruce’s shirt. One of his favorite amusements – how much could Bruce ignore before Clint got his attention. So far, Bruce was winning. When the man wanted to focus, he could damn well focus. Not that Clint minded when that focus was turned on him.

“Is that Carol?” Clint recognized medical records – he’d seen enough of his own to know – and picked out the important tidbits. Combined DNA. Increased strength. Alien influence.

“Did you know she’s already picking out a name and costume? I warned her not to get too excited since we don’t know if this is a lasting effect, but Tony was showing her his miracle fabric.” Bruce sighed, tablet drifting down. “Comes from working in Stark Tower I guess. I don’t understand her enthusiasm for running into danger.”

“Airforce Hot Shot Colonel Carol Danvers? Have you never flown with her? I went up in a Cessna with her once. Took my life in my own hands. Woman hears certain danger, small chance of success, and asks ‘what are we waiting for?’,” Clint laughed. Carol made Laura Croft look like scaredy cat. “She skydives for fun on the weekends.”

The movie started and Clint glanced up at the screen; horses crossed the desert as the scoutmaster and his charges rode across the dusty ground. “Dismount!” the scoutmaster called; Herman fell off his horse and was sick.

“This one? Why did you pick this?” Clint leaned forward, startled, disrupting Bruce who bobbled his tablet almost off his lap.

“Mountain Girl. Take the leap.” The Hulk explained, unperturbed. “Dog named Indiana funny.”

“Mountain Girl?” Bruce asked; sometimes Clint forgot that he didn’t know the Hulk’s names for everyone.

“Maria Hill. I never should have let him watch _Ladykillers_.” Clint usually veered more towards PG fun films with the Hulk, but Tony had insisted and the damn thing was quite hysterical.

“The Waffle Hut,” Hulk laughed, tossing his head back, showing his white teeth.

“But this movie?” Clint pointed to the TV. “It was part of my vision today in the conference room. The leap from the lion’s mouth. How could the Hulk know that?”

“He probably didn’t. Dreams are usually keyed off on something that happens – a random event, a phrase – same things that trigger memories. You both heard Hill say ‘take the leap.’ Hulk thought of watching the movie and you integrated it into your vision.” Bruce pushed Clint back by leaning into him, settling himself down a little more. “Please tell me I wasn’t Brody. I like the man, but he got lost in his own museum.”

“Thor was Brody,” Clint had to chuckle; Thor could be a little clueless at times. “Hill was Elsa – she’ll hate that – and Loki was Donovan. You  ... um... were Dr. Jones, Sr. I was going to save you by getting the Tesseract. But then it got all confused with _The Matrix_.”

 “So, you view me as a father figure?” Bruce teased.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Bruce, you’re only five years older than me. Tell me you don’t worry about that. ‘Cause the truth is I only love you because you satisfy my very kinky sexual urges.” Clint blatantly rubbed his cock against Bruce’s low back; tugging Bruce’s button-up shirt out of his waistband, unbuckling Bruce’s belt and sliding it out of the loops. He nuzzled his mouth up against Bruce’s ear where the vibrations would roll through Bruce as he spoke. “I have no confusion about what I want you for, doc.”

“Very funny,” Bruce tapped at his tablet again. “At least you have the good taste to pick Sean Connery for me. Now watch your movie so I can get something done.” Clint let him go back to work because he knew the innocent across-the-counter painkillers Tony had palmed off on Bruce were actually Tylenol 3 with codeine. He’d give Bruce 20 minutes at the max before he was out like a light.

Watching a movie for the Hulk was a contact sport; he didn’t just sit and stare at the screen, he participated. He growled at the rats, gave Indy instructions during the boat chase, literally booed when the Nazis came on the scene. He quoted his favorite lines – well, sort of, mostly just “Tapestries?” and “I am Mickey Mouse” and “Junior?” – and hissed every time Donovan spoke. While it was an entertaining show, they’d all learned the downside to the Hulk’s complete immersion the hard way; during their first attempt at watching _Star Wars_ , the Big Guy had punched the screen when Darth Vader was fighting Obi Wan Kenobi, destroying Tony’s brand new 103” TV.  They still had to be careful with Disney movies after they’d fought a squid creature just two days before the Hulk had watched _Little Mermaid_ ; at least that time they were in the movie room and the projector was suspended from the ceiling. Screens are much easier to replace.

Clint amused himself by teasing Bruce with his hands, his thumbs tucked up under the edge of his shirt, tracing patterns on Bruce’s skin, twirling through the dark hair. Shifting his body, he let his breath ghost over the nape of Bruce’s neck, warm and easy. About the time Indiana was being asked for the first time why he sought the grail, Bruce’s head nodded forward, his eyes heavy; his fingers had stilled on the screen then the Hulk hooted at Indy’s stupidity for trusting Elsa, and Bruce’s eyes opened again. He worked for a few more minutes before he started to doze off. Clint held still, afraid that any movement would keep Bruce awake and soon the tablet was resting on his legs and Bruce’s chin was on his chest. Counting slowly to fifty, to make sure, Clint eased the tablet out of the way and took off Bruce’s glasses.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured in Bruce’s ear.

“Like it here,” Bruce scooted down further, turned on his side and rested his head on Clint’s chest; he caught Clint’s hand, twined their fingers together, and tucked them along his stomach. “I’m fine.”

Moments like these were the biggest surprise to Clint; he thought he’d understood relationships and pretty much sucked at them. But the longer he and Bruce were together, the more he learned he didn’t know anything at all.  Like how simply sitting and feeling the rise and fall of Bruce’s chest against his own could be as intimate an act as sex itself. How saying nothing at all was saying everything. He’d never thought that he’d be this content with his life.

_“So, how did it go?”_

_Bruce was sitting at his desk, papers strewn across the surface, his favorite grading pen in one hand, glasses slipping down his nose. His hair was shorter, closer to his head, streaks of silver more prominent at his temples; a rumpled yellow oxford was half-untucked from his khaki pants._

_“How did what go?” Clint paused at the kitchen island, dropping his keys into a bowl on the grey granite countertop. None of it looked familiar: white cabinets, industrial stainless silver oven, windows that looked out over the city._

_“Yeah, sorry about that, but Tony couldn’t keep his mouth shut.” Bruce pushed back his chair and walked out of the office, opening a cabinet and getting out a small Captain America glass. “The talk with the USOC. About managing the team. You’d be perfect for the job.”_

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Of all the visions, this one was the strangest; Bruce, in his bare feet, calmly setting out a napkin and piling goldfish crackers on it. It made no sense at all._

_“Imagine shaping the future of the sport, Clint. Expanding the local program to a national level. Scoping out the next Hawkeye.” Bruce finished pouring the apple juice, popped it back in the fridge then easily boxed Clint in against the counter with his arms. “I know it’s hard to see Steve and Thor and Carol still going strong after all this time, to not feel the urge to be out there with them. But this could be good for you.”_

_He leaned in for a kiss, putting his glasses on the counter before he closed the last inch to press his warm lips against Clint’s, sliding them across slow and easy. Clint’s hands found their way onto Bruce’s belt, resting lightly as they kissed again, and again, and again, each one a little deeper, and a little more demanding._

_“Daddy, Daddy …. Ewwwww, gross.” The little voice shocked Clint, and he jerked his head back; Bruce smiled indulgently and kept Clint trapped where he was. “Kissing is nasty.”_

_She was maybe 7 or 8-years-old,  long brown hair pulled back with a Hello Kitty headband, Cookie Monster t-shirt under a purple hoodie. Dropping her pink pack on the floor, she put her hands on her hips and stared at them._

_“People who love each other kiss, Cindy Lou Who,” Bruce chuckled, his eyes alight as he looked at her._

_“Nu-huh. Billy Gardner tried to kiss me after he pushed me down in the mud. So I hit him,” she proudly declared. “Just like Papa told me to.”_

_Bruce turned a glare on Clint; he shrugged because, yeah, that was something he’d definitely tell a little girl._

_“We’ll talk about this later. Your snack is ready and then we’ll start homework. Mrs. Montgomery called about redoing your math for the last few days,” Bruce lifted her up onto one of the stools._

_“Mrs. Montgomery is a putz.” She declared, reaching for the juice glass._

_“Rebecca Louisa Barton. That is quite enough of that. You don’t call people names and you don’t refuse to do your homework because it’s stupid.” Bruce bent down and looked directly into the little girl’s blue eyes._

_“But I gave her the right answers! Her way is slow and takes too much time.” She started lining up the crackers, head hung low._

_“It’s not always about the right answer. Sometimes it’s about asking the right question and doing things the right way.”_

_Trigger released, the bullet slamming into the ancient truck’s tire; skidding along the muddy street, it tilted precariously, spilling its load of lucuma. The black suburban tried to stop in time, but didn’t make it, fishtailing on the wet and slippery road; frustrated faces of the black ops men inside made Clint smile. He remembered this, turned to look at the man in the purple shirt exiting the hospital; Bruce’s head snapped around at the sound and his face changed. In seconds, he would melt into the crowd, no doubt stopping at his drop box behind the library for his pack, the one Clint had already put a tracking device in. But for an instance, his eyes sought the top of the building where Clint had started breaking down and stowing his rifle, and their eyes met. With a slight nod of thanks, Bruce was gone._

_“Sorry, but it’s gone. I ate it yesterday.” Tony waved his hand in dismissal. “You shouldn’t have left a carmello bar in the kitchen. Fair game, dude.”_

_“We have rules, Tony. You don’t take other people’s food. Do we have to start labeling things? I thought we were grown-ups here,” Steve continued the argument._

_“Guess that means I can have your special Kona stash then?” Natasha asked, reaching for the special order blend._

_“Oh, hell no!” Tony grabbed for it first. “That’s made just for me.”_

_“After a battle, we should all share and feast,” Thor supplied to the increasingly loud conversation._

_“Cupid have one?” The Hulk offered the opened red box, chocolate covered pretzels stacked carefully inside. “Cupid need chocolate.”_

_Silence fell in the room, Tony sucked in a breath, and Steve stared._

_“Did he just …” Tony started, but Natasha punched his arm and hissed “Shut up” as Clint took one of the closely guarded treats._

_“Thanks, Big Guy.” Memories. These were good memories. Why was he seeing this instead of the other type of visions?_

_“Hey, since you’re sharing …” Tony reached for one; the Hulk closed the box and turned away._

_“None for Metal Head,” he turned to Clint, changing in a blink to Bruce. “You’re the one, Clint. It’s no use going back to yesterday. We were different people then.”_

_“Papa? Don’t be sad. I made you something, something important.”_

_Clint squatted down as Rebecca handed him an orange piece of construction paper, her name carefully printed in the top right corner, colorful crayon in the middle. Black lines of the cube distinct against the blue energy inside, white bolts drawn out all around it. He stared at the paper, understanding dawning._

_“This is you, right?”_

_“I knew you were smart, Papa!” She cried as she threw herself into his arms for a hug._


	7. Came the Last Night of Sadness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then his heart stopped; Natasha’s look made everything crystal clear. She’d donned her war mask, the face she wore when they were going into an op that was too dangerous for anyone but them, eyes shuttered to show no emotion, lips compressed together, no tension lines, nothing at all to read. That alone told him what no one else would say, the truth of the situation. A strange sense of calm settled over him and the room receded, unnecessary and not worthy of attention; the rage and the confusion and the pain were coming, he knew, but he had other things, more important things to do right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defense, I'll remind you "There is no spoon."
> 
> Have some tissues handy.
> 
> I couldn't decide where to end this; the story just kept coming. Next chapter will be up quickly. I promise.

“There’s been no change in his condition. He’s stable, but unresponsive,” Jane Foster scanned through Selvig’s charts on her tablet. The man’s eyes were moving beneath his closed lids, darting from one side to the other quickly. Clint wondered if Selvig was dreaming about the universe, talking to the stars and listening to their secrets. So far today, Clint hadn’t had any visions nor had he dreamed while he slept, and that made him uneasy. He’d woken up alone in the big bed; the Hulk had talked him into watching _Raiders_ and then starting _The Temple of Doom_ after they’d moved Bruce into the comfortable, warm blankets. Clint had finally crashed, barely surfacing when Bruce kissed him and left to meet Hank Pym in the lab. He’d completely missed Bruce, Tony, and Pym heading off to the Helicarrier to use some specialized equipment and the planet wide sensors.

“I suggested they pump coffee in through the IV, but Jane nixed that.” Darcy offered from her place on one of the waiting room chairs. She had her ear buds in, watching some show about werewolves on her computer, a 64 oz. soda in one hand and a pop tart in the other. “Loud music too, but nobody likes my favorite bands.”

“You really think he’s trapped in some sort of dream world?” Jane asked, concern clouding her face.

“I honestly don’t know,” Clint confessed. “But it’s related to the Tesseract, that’s for sure. I’m beginning to believe he was right, that it was … is sentient.”

“He talked about it as if it was a woman, seemed half in love with it,” Jane mused. “I tease him about it, you know. Tell him he met his soul mate.”

“You’ll get to joke with him again, don’t worry. I don’t think this” Clint nodded towards Selvig “is intentional, more a side effect. Once we figure out why it’s happening, we’ll be a long way to fixing it.” He turned to go, but Jane stopped him, catching his elbow.

“What was he saying when you … dreamed about him?” Jane asked.

“He talked about the wonders of the universe. We were at a planetarium watching a show about the constellation Orpheus, and then he showed me something. M … M87? That’s it.”

Jane looked at him sharply. “You sure it was M87? He was working on a new project, one he’d just started, a new algorithm for locating black holes. Maybe …” she turned to Darcy. “Did we pack the latest data? I should probably look at it again …”

Clint realized that Jane was off on a new tangent and he quietly slipped out of the room, Darcy winking as he went. Once Jane started talking astrophysics, she wouldn’t stop for a while. If he booked it, he still had time to check on the Hulk in the practice room before he and Natasha were supposed to meet with Coulson to bring him up to speed on the whole situation. The man wanted to jump in with both feet despite his doctor’s admonitions. He trusted Steve to wear the Big Guy out but Clint was feeling queasy in the pit of his stomach, and mostly wanted to reassure himself all was well. He entered the viewing room and stood at the window, taking the time to watch the two; it was a testament to how far the team had come to see Captain America and the Hulk work in tandem to bring down an Apache helicopter. Clint flinched a little when the Big Guy slung Steve up in the air, fast and hard, but Steve grabbed the rod that looked like a landing skid and flipped himself up on the platform doubling as the helicopter’s bay with ease.

“Anomaly detected,” Jarvis voice cut through the top floors of the tower. “Level 56, practice room …”

The sphere slammed into being, cutting through the steel of the platform just in front of Steve’s body; he tried to break the momentum, but he was moving too fast to keep himself from plunging into the misty surface. He backpedaled with his arms, one hand slicing into the fog, and then the Hulk was yanking Steve backwards, tossing him off the platform and down to the floor where he landed, cradling his hand. Clint was running for the door; he’d armed himself this morning with more disruptor arrows, just in case, willing to walk around all day with his bow if need be. By the time he got into the room, the Hulk was trying to wrestle the sphere, but his arms sank into the stuff – it was growing too big for him to get a handle on.

“Everyone down!” Clint yelled. “Jarvis, protocol 7832, centered on the sphere on my mark.” Taking a calming breath, he strung his bow and carefully slotted in an arrow as the Hulk jumped out of the way and covered Steve’s body with his own. “Now.”

One of the first programs Tony had designed was a crisis plan for the Tower. Everyone with access to the private labs and floors all created activation codes in the practice rooms, an emergency failsafe. They could either lock it down and go on the defensive, or lure the enemy in and blast the hell out of them. That’s what Clint was doing. When he spoke the word, every gun, bomb, laser, anything that could be armed if necessary, was loosed at the sphere, bombarding it from all sides. Waiting in his protected position, Clint watched as the sphere wavered, started to fail, then collapsed into the black spinning vortex; he sent his arrow right into the heart of the thing then, shattering it. The backlash was fierce; he’d have hit the wall with bone-crushing speed if a big green hand hadn’t caught his ankle. As it was, his bow smashed into the metal at an odd angle with a resounding crack.

“Damn it. Bows are expensive!” Clint was seriously pissed now. That was one of his new ones too; he’d just been using it for less than three months. He sat up as the Hulk lifted off the floor. “You okay, Steve?”

“Yes. Hand burns a little bit, but I’ll be fine.” He was stretching his fingers; the parts that had touched the sphere were red, like a terrible sunburn. He offered his other hand to Clint and they pulled themselves up. “That answers one question, though. If they knew anything about us, they’d never send one in here.”

“Like blundering around in another culture or language,” Clint agreed. “I guess that’s …”

“Clint.” Natasha stood in the doorway.

“We’re fine, Tasha. Another one of those damn spheres, but we got it,” Clint said with an easy smile.

Her face didn’t change, still and tightly controlled. “Bruce collapsed. They’ve rushing him to medical. It’s bad.”

* * *

 

The jet landed in record time, Natasha at the controls, flying even more dramatically than usual, informing the tower that she had priority and pushing ahead of two helicopters and another jet.  Steve had insisted on coming along; they’d left Thor with the Hulk, the Big Guy huddled on the floor, worried about the Little Guy, the plan to stay in the practice room in case of any more attacks. None of that mattered to Clint; a buzzing had started in his ears, filling the inside of his head until thinking was almost impossible. He kept moving forward, one foot in front of the other – get to the jet, get to the carrier, get to medical.

He jumped down before the ramp connected to the deck, taking off at a run towards the nearest door, Steve right behind him, plowing to a halt as he remembered he no longer had an access card. Natasha’s arm reached around him, using hers. After the attack, SHIELD had added new security features including manned checkpoints; there was one at the head of the corridor. Steve and Natasha pulled out their cards to show the short, stocky agent who had a permanent scowl on his face. Clint knew him … Agent Daves.

“Captain, Agent Romanoff,” Daves nodded to them both. “You’re cleared all the way. You, however, are no longer on active rotation, Barton, and I can’t let you pass.”

“Look, Carlos, I’m just going to medical. Bruce, Dr. Banner, is ill. I’ll be with Steve and Natasha the whole way.” Clint could barely contain himself, a primitive part wanting to slam his fist right into Daves face and keep going.

“We’ll vouch for him, Agent,” Steve said.

“I’m sorry, Captain, but I have direct orders to deny Barton entry.” Daves’ voice was hard, his face a solid mask of hate.

“Let him through,” Natasha growled in her voice that brought the strongest men to their knees and grabbed the front of the man’s blue uniform.

“Nat.” Clint put a hand on her arm. “Steve, can you head on down there, tell Bruce I’m on my way?” Steve started to balk, but then he gave a curt nod and took off. Clint looked Daves straight in the eye. “Whatever your beef is, Carlos, it can wait. I’ll gladly meet you in any sparring ring later.”

“Right. You get to kill people, and we all just blink and let you right back in. Well, some of us remember what you did, the people you hurt. And even if it’s all politically correct to pretend to agree with your ‘lifestyle,’ I don’t give a damn if you’re fucking Fury himself or that bitch Hill. Your ass stays here.” A dangerous glint was in the agent’s eyes; he was making a stand, knowing he was crossing lines.

“Agent. Did I just hear you correctly?” The frozen wasteland of Antarctica was warmer than Maria Hill’s voice as she stood, hands on her hips. Lesser men had withered under that gaze. Daves, however, didn’t.

“The orders are clear, sir. Barton is persona non grata onboard.” He smirked at Clint.

“And this bitch is giving you a direct order to let him pass,” Hill said.

“The order came from Director Fury directly, ma’am. Only he can …” Hill’s fist plowed into Daves’ face, knocking the man back on his ass.

“Get going Barton. I’ll handle this.” She nodded towards them, a tight smile on her face. Clint might have spared a moment to feel sorry for the idiot, but he didn’t have the time or energy, focused only on getting to Bruce.

Pale and sweating profusely, Bruce was resting on a hospital bed in an isolation room; Steve was in the observation room with Hank Pym. “He’s in isolation,” Pym said. “They’re worried about gamma contamination. Just a precaution.”

“Open the door,” Clint ordered the male nurse sitting at the monitor panels.

“I can’t, sir. Doctor’s orders.”

The cold steel of Natasha’s gun settled in the nurse’s temple. “Open the door,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Clint was through the first door the second it buzzed, barely waiting on it to close before he ploughed through the second one. Bruce’s eyes were closed, his breathing uneven as Clint stepped up to the side of the bed and caught his hand.  Clammy skin, twitches running up his arm – Clint felt it all like a punch to his gut as he held on tightly. Lids fluttered up, eyes tried to focus.

“Clint?” the ragged voice lacked power. “Tony. Tablet ...New data … needs to see.” Each word was painful, Bruce stopping to breath between them.

“Your tablet in the lab?” Clint asked, keeping his voice calm; he didn’t feel that way at all, but it would do no good to scream and rail. Bruce nodded, his eyes glazed with pain.

“I’ll get it,” Steve’s voice came over the intercom. “Don’t worry about it.”

“See? All taken care of. Pym’s working on those damn nannites even as we speak ….” Clint started, pretending to be cheerful and upbeat.

“Not … nannites.” Bruce shook his head, and his back arched up off the bed as he gave a strangled cry, his muscles spasming all over his body. For what seemed an eternity, the tremors racked him; finally he dropped back, exhausted.

“Pym?” Clint turned to look at the doctor, never letting go of Bruce’s hand.

“I was there when it happened, had Bruce hooked up to monitors. The nannites didn’t react at all. They didn’t cause this. I’m sorry,” Pym answered. “His genetic structure is degrading at an exponential rate, and I don’t know what we can do about it.”

“Tony will have an idea when he gets back,” Clint assured Bruce … and himself. Tony always had ideas.

“It’s too late. The copy …. I’m a copy … made … reacting to …” Bruce’s voice was very quiet now, and Clint leaned forward to hear it.

“No. We’re going to figure this out. We always do. Have a little faith.” Clint brushed back Bruce’s hair that had fallen over his forehead. “We’ll call Thor’s mother, or, hell, drag Loki out of his prison if we need to. If another one of those spheres pops up, I’ll throw you in it myself.”

_The Oracle was standing at the head of the bed, a sad smile upon her face. “You’re going to have to choose … but it looks like you’re waiting for something.”_

_“Help him. Let me use your power to save him.” Clint wasn’t above begging._

_The Knight Templar said, “He is not mine to save.”_

_“Damn it! Then what use are you!” Clint shouted._

_“I cannot unmake what I didn’t make; nor can I make what I did not unmake,” Alice smiled, but there were tears in her eyes. Clint felt like throwing something at her, but he was stuck, frozen in place as if his feet were attached to the floor, despair welling up from his toes to his head._

Movement caught his eye; Tony had arrived. He took one look at Bruce and turned his back, grabbing the tablet from Steve’s outstretched hand. After a few seconds, he turned around again, a slight tremor in his hands.

“Bruce, can you hear me? The sensors are all in place and we’re good to go. With this data, I think we can triangulate where they’re coming from.” Tony wouldn’t stop moving, pacing back and forth, even when Steve put a hand on him; he brushed it off and kept up his quickening pace. “We’re going to find these sons-of-bitches and kick their ass, but I need you to help narrow the variables.”

A spark jumped between Bruce’s cheek and Clint’s fingers where he was stroking the skin; it tingled its way up his arm and shot right into his chest.

“Levels are starting to fluctuate. They’re rising, sir,” the nurse said to Pym.

“Clint, I think you need to get out ….” Steve was saying, but a seizure gripped Bruce; arms and legs jerked, lashing out. His eyes were wide open, mouth gasping, a hoarse cry wrenched from his throat. Charges flew out, connecting to any and everything – monitors, bed frame, Clint’s hands and face and chest. Each one was small, but collectively it was like a hundred tiny jolts that battered his heart and pushed the breath out of his lungs.

“Blood pressure rising, heart rate spiking … I’ve never seen anything like this.” Pym’s voice came from the speakers then Clint completely lost the conversation, holding onto Bruce’s hand and bending over his body, trying to soothe away some anxiety with just his presence. The whole thing lasted less than a minute, but Clint wouldn’t have known it. Time slowed, crawled forward, the realization settling into his gut, sending cold flowing throughout his body.

_“Mrs. Montgomery was right. You can’t just jump to the right answer; sometimes you have to go through all the steps, no matter how painful, before you get there,” the little brown haired girl said. “Don’t be sad.”_

_“This isn’t the right answer, Cindy Lou Who. This is wrong.” Clint dragged his fingers along his wet cheeks, held out the tears for her to see. “I’ve made my choice, it will always be him. Take me instead.”_

_“I can’t take you silly. And you’re not asking the right questions, so of course, you got the wrong answer,” she said. “You must ask yourself, why do you seek the power? When you can answer that, you’re on the right path.”_

_“I didn’t ask for the power and I’m not seeking it. I just want Bruce.”_

Bruce slowly settled back down, trying to draw in air, his body drenched from the exertion. The morphine pump went off, beeping several times in a row, and he seemed to even out, even squeezing Clint’s hand, but he was weak and noticeably paler. Clint glanced at the window. Tony was sagging against Steve, whose face was transparent in his grief, Pym frantically working on the computer. And then his heart stopped; Natasha’s look made everything crystal clear. She’d donned her war mask, the face she wore when they were going into an op that was too dangerous for anyone but them, eyes shuttered to show no emotion, lips compressed together, no tension lines, nothing at all to read. That alone told him what no one else would say, the truth of the situation. A strange sense of calm settled over him and the room receded, unnecessary and not worthy of attention; the rage and the confusion and the pain were coming, he knew, but he had other things, more important things to do right now.

“Here?” Bruce whispered. Clint smiled in return, shutting out the others behind him, turning his full attention on Bruce.

“I’m here, doc. Going to be right here. Got nowhere else to go.” Oh, god, that was raw truth that scraped across his already bleeding heart.

“Should have … thought about waking you … this morning … but you needed sleep.” Bruce was barely able to speak, trying so hard to get the words out. Clint nudged Bruce’s legs a bit – they were tangled in the sheet anyway, so he smoothed out the covers – and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I’d have loved if you had. But you know it’s more than that, right? Just being with you is enough.” Steady voice, soothing caresses, fingers drawing circles over Bruce’s palm – inside a part of Clint was screaming, the echoes reverberating in his head. “Besides, we’ve plenty of time. I’m thinking a little cabana on some private beach with nothing but white sand and blue ocean. A whole week. Hey, we can use Tony’s private island. I’ll blackmail him into it.”

“The one … in the West Indies … looks nice.” Bruce devolved into a series of gasps, more little arcs of lightning dancing around his body.

“You knew? Does everyone know but me?” Mock outrage, a little smirk, and Bruce tried to smile in response – a private hell yawned before Clint’s feet and he teetered on the edge, but didn’t fall. Not yet.

“Clint.” The tiniest of murmurs. “I …” Bruce’s eyes drifted closed, too long between breaths.

“I know, doc. I love you too.” Clint brushed his lips over Bruce’s colder ones and rested their foreheads together, eyes closed, no need to do more than exhale to be heard. “Always will.”

Tendrils of mist, charged with blue sparks, began to rise off of Bruce’s body, slithering all directions as they rose to the ceiling or fell to the floor. They curled around their joined hands, crawling up Clint’s arm, jumped between their lips, circling Clint’s head. Cold, the sub-zero feel of space, yet pulsing with a heartbeat that grew fainter with each passing second; the room was dimming, overhead lights blocked, walls building around them.

“Clint.” Natasha’s voice, far away; to everyone else, she would sound calm and collected, but Clint heard the anguish. “Please. I need you to come out of there. The readings are all over the place; we don’t know what this is doing to you.”

He didn’t bother to reply, lifting his head and cradling Bruce’s face with his other hand; the cold mirrored the ice forming in his throat, little clouds each time he exhaled. He could feel Bruce’s chest rise ever so slightly, so much effort to keep breathing.

_“This seat taken?” He was already sitting down before he had an answer, cold bottle of beer plunked down by Clint’s own drink._

_“Guess so,” Clint bit back a grin at the man’s hubris, walking right up and announcing himself._

_“Busy night,” Bruce eyed the cantina’s crowd, tables full of locals, none of them paying any attention to the two men at a back table._

_“Yeah, it is.” Clint propped his boot on a rung of the next chair and took a swig of beer. If this was the way they were going to play it …_

“Cold ...” Bruce breathed.

“Yeah, it is.” Clint embraced it, wrapped it around himself, the static dancing along both of them like iced lightning. Even that burned frigid.

_“It’s a good try, but it’s not going to work,” Clint said._

_Bruce leaned in, braced on his hands. “I must be doing it wrong then. I thought I was seducing you.”_

“Don’t … Pepper has … please …” Bruce was getting agitated, trying to speak. Somewhere, in the distance, Clint could hear sounds, the rise and fall of voices arguing, beeps and squeals of machines.

“I won’t let them. I promise.” The tear streaks on his face started to freeze.

_A cool rain, twilight, an empty street, trickles of rain running down his neck, Bruce’s body warm against his as Clint kissed him._

Bruce’s body was jerking, the surrounding mist swirling in closer, clinging to his skin. Clint tried to scream as an instant of agonizing pain slammed through him but he couldn’t make his throat unclench for even the smallest sound.

_“I can’t sleep.” The little voice came from the dark doorway, past the ambient light of the television. Bruce paused_ The Walking Dead _episode and changed the channel quickly as Clint held out his arms; she clambered up on the big bed, wiggling her way between the two of them._

_“Bad dreams again?” Bruce asked, tousling her head as she settled against his chest, Clint closing in on the other side._

_“You left me,” she said in a whisper, eyes closed face buried in the soft cotton of his t-shirt. “I couldn’t make it better.”_

_“Now you know that we love you no matter what.” Clint tickled her bare feet until she giggled.  “Even if you become a supervillan. We’ll visit you in prison every day.”_

_Bruce grinned at Clint, looking over the top of his glasses in that way that turned Clint on even now, so many years later. “Sorry, but you’re stuck with us. Besides the Big Guy will always find you. You know that.”_

The room swam back into focus, the fog starting to dissipate, taking the cold with it, and Clint looked at Bruce; the tendrils coming off of him lessened, leaving him and fading away. With a sigh, he focused on Clint and managed a half-smile.

“Love you.”

And then he breathed one last time and closed his eyes.

A silence fell in the room, the monitors blown out and blackened. Bowing his head, Clint kissed Bruce one last time as the bottom fell out of his world. A strange numbness hollowed out his mind, carved out his heart and left an empty hole in his chest. Someone was touching him, hand on his back, but he didn’t look up, just curled down around Bruce, laying his head on Bruce’s chest. He didn’t care. Didn’t give a damn about anything. Right here was good enough for now and there was no tomorrow. Not anymore.

_“Papa?”_

_He opened his eyes … when had he closed them? … blinked the tears away; she was crying, long streaks tracking down her cheeks._

_“You have to get up. The Big Guy needs you.”_

“Clint?”

A part of him registered that the voice was Natasha, the hands on his shoulders were Steve’s, but his mind had wound down to a stop and there was no reason to reply.

“You have to get up,” she said.

The Big Guy needs me. That thought enacted some buried protocol in his brain, a survival mode; he let Steve pull him back from the bed after he twisted one last curl around his fingers, but he couldn’t get his hand to let go of Bruce’s. For someone who could kill with ease, Natasha’s hands were gentle as she unclenched his fingers, separating them for the last time. There was something Clint needed to remember, to say, but he’d forgotten how to speak; he had to summon up all his remaining energy just to break through and get a word out.

“Tony?”

A raspy voice, so not like Tony, answered. “I’m here.”

Clint didn’t look, didn’t turn around. “Pepper helped Bruce with a living will and specific instructions. Don’t let SHIELD have him.”

Tony cleared his throat and Clint heard phone noises. “On it. We’ll bring him … home … I …” Tony stopped, a quiet sob choked down before he thought anyone would hear it.

“I’ll take care of it,” Steve promised.

“Nat, I need a ride back to the tower.” He barely saw her eyes haunted with a very personal despair, just turned to go, pushing through the now open doors and out into the room where Maria Hill stood, watching them all. She gave him a nod as he passed, but he didn’t bother to return it, only making sure that Natasha was with him as he moved like an automaton down the corridor.

* * *

 

“I can buy you maybe fifteen minutes,” Hill said to Steve after Clint and Natasha had left. “Have him out of here by then. Soon as word gets out, the Council will start issuing orders and I’ll have to follow them.” She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut for just a second. “Sometimes being lawful works in my favor. They can’t get mad if there’s an ironclad legal document to follow.” She turned to go.

“Maria.” Steve stopped her with his hand on her arm. “Thank you. For everything.”

She blinked. “Whether he believes it or not, I actually like Barton. Wish I had the guts to be as mouthy as he is sometimes. Just not my nature. Take care of him. This calm act? It isn’t good.”

“Natasha’s commandeering a SHIELD jet, so we’ve got a way off this floating death trap.” Tony had decided to go for manic mode, pretending nothing was wrong and that solving the problem was the only focus. Next, he’d be pushing aside any thoughts or references to Bruce, acting as if it didn’t happen until he buried himself in a bottle later.

“Mr. Stark,” Pym said. He was standing, lost, unsure what to say. “Can we get the data from the system here? I thought I saw something while …” He simply stopped as Tony starting talking over him.

“Jarvis! Get all the data and video. Use the emergency backup zombie program. I want it wiped from the system here by the time we lift off.”

“I’ll get my notes from the lab.” Pym backed out of the room. “I think I remember the way there and back to the jet.” Steve couldn’t blame the man for leaving quickly; Tony was wearing on Steve’s battered emotions too, and he understood Stark’s way of dealing with bad things. Soon as they were back, he knew Tony would lock himself in his lab and pour everything into his work.

“Tony.” Steve stepped up to him and pushed the tablet down, forcing Tony to look up. “I need a minute here,” he said with a catch in his voice.

“There’s no time; Hill’s covering for us, but she’s right about the bastards on the Council.” He shrugged Steve’s hand away. “Can you carry him? That’s the easiest way …”

“You want me to …” Not that Steve couldn’t do it for Bruce, he would. And Clint. “It’s just that I …”

“Good. Let’s get going.” Tony shoved him away and left him standing there, alone in the room.  

* * *

 

_“Oh, gods, I have bad memories of these jets.” Loki leaned over the back of the co-pilot chair, staring out the flight window. “Are we finally done with Wonderland?”_

_His voice rolled over Clint without so much of a tiny shiver, powerless now to affect him. Clint felt only the pull of the black hole in his chest, time dilating around him, hours passing for others while only seconds for him. Repeating every word, every image, what he had missed, what he had done wrong._

_“No more playing?” The dark head tilted, scanning Clint’s face. “Something’s changed.”_

 “We’ll be landing in 5 minutes,” Natasha said, giving a cutting glance towards Clint.

_“What has happened to you, Agent? You’re no fun anymore,” Loki pouted. “Did they take away your toys?”_

_“Tell me about M87.”_

_“Ah, you humans have stumbled upon your first black hole. You know nothing of what is on the other side, of course, but it is fun to watch you bumble around.”_

“Clint. We’re here.” Natasha unbuckled her seatbelt and nudged Clint’s shoulder. “Jarvis says that the Big Guy is going crazy downstairs.”

The Hulk raged, confined in the practice room, slamming his fists into the metal walls, over and over again. He could have escaped, ripped a hole and pounded his way out, but he didn’t, more intent on simply smashing everything within range. Thor was waiting outside, rubbing his arm where it had almost been pulled of the socket.

“It began no more than 20 minutes ago. He became very anxious regarding Dr. Banner, wanted to go find Clint and then he exploded. It is as if he has reverted to the older Hulk, the one we first met. Rarely speaking and very angry. Has there been another of the magical circles?” There was a silence as Thor looked at Clint’s vacant eyes. “Friends. What has happened?”

Clint knew that Thor deserved an answer, that Natasha was worried about his silence on the ride back, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He palmed the inhibitor and ordered Jarvis to open the door.

“That is not a good idea. I believe the Hulk is too far gone to listen ….” Thor tried to argue.

The room was a disaster scene, the Big Guy punching random holes in the far wall. Clint waited to be noticed; it didn’t take long before the brown eyes fell on him.

“Hey there, Big Guy.” He could think of no way to tell his friend, no words that would offer any calm, and he was given no chance to say more. The Hulk jumped across the room in one leap and roared loudly in his face, the sound battering against the already broken walls of the room and the shattered pieces of Clint. So close, Clint jabbed the air compressed dispenser into the Hulk’s thigh just seconds before the fist connected with his chest; his feet left the ground and he flew backwards, the blow powerful enough that he was unconscious before he hit the wall.


	8. Oz Never Did Give Nothing to the Tin Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “M87. Black Holes. Alternative worlds that have tiny little doors like Wonderland and can be manipulated like the Matrix. The black vortex in the middle of the sphere.” He started to stand, to tell someone what he suspected, but he fell back, a heavy weight in pressing down on his chest.
> 
> “Here, have a cookie. You’ll feel right as rain after,” the Oracle smiled at him, offering a plate. “This form is very wise. I think I like it.”
> 
> The cookie was, of course, oatmeal raisin. Clint ate the whole thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI, there are sentient Cosmic Cubes in Marvel and one did fall into the hands of the Krull. The rest I'm just making up. Clint's theory about Indiana Jones here is my own. I do think that Indy had already gotten the grail long before he picked up the cup. He just didn't realize it yet.
> 
> Probably two more chapters then an epilogue. Hang in there with me. If you're good at that sort of thing, the clues for the ending are sown in the chapters.

“Sir, Ms. Potts, is using her override to enter.”

Tony kept working on the program modifications, not bothering to look up as her heels clicked across the tile. He’d been locked in here since … well, he wasn’t sure how long it had been; he couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten or slept. Wait, he did remember sleeping. With Steve. Waking up with the covers thrown off, their legs tangled, blonde hair tousled next to his cheek.

“Tony Stark.” That was Pepper’s ‘I’m supremely pissed at you’ voice. He’d heard that a voice more times than he could count.  Her hand reached around him and pushed the screen away. “I don’t care what you’re doing; if you can stop being an idiot for two minutes, you might be able to salvage this situation.”

“Don’t. Just don’t. I’m not in the mood.” He bit the words out, harsh and angry. “Get the hell out of here.”

“You’re not the only one in pain here, Tony. Get your head out of your ass. For a genius, you keep making the same mistakes over and over again. Don’t make me invoke the emergency ‘Tony’s an idio’ protocol. I will.” Her blue eyes flashed at him, and she stood her ground like only Pepper could do.  She’d make good on her threat, and then he’d be on lock down, Jarvis following her instructions.

“This is important, Pep. I need to do this.” He could see she’d been crying, her makeup smeared and her eyes rimmed with red. “I have to do something.” He turned back to his screen, ignoring her.

“Do you know where Steve is?” She asked quietly from behind him, and then her heels clicked away, leaving him in silence. The question sunk in as he entered another line of code; he hadn’t thought of Steve since they landed in the jet and heard about Clint, not since he’d brushed his hand off on the helicarrier. Steve had headed down to medical; Tony had gone straight to his lab and hadn’t even bothered to check on Clint’s status, brain already too far gone into the number stream that constantly ran through it.

“Jarvis, locate Steve.” He kept most of his brain engaged in the work at hand; just a few more tests and maybe then the working model would be ready.

“Captain Rogers is not in the building.”

Huh. Tony peeled off more of his attention to this new problem. “Ping his phone.”

“His phone is currently in his quarters in the Tower.”

Damn it. The man couldn’t remember to take his phone anywhere. Sometimes Tony thought he did it on purpose, some old fashioned notion about not always having the world at his fingertips.  “When did he leave?”

“Approximately 4 hours ago, Captain Rogers left the building and hailed a taxi. I have visual of the cab number; would you want me to …”

“Never mind. I think I know where he went.” Tony reluctantly saved the program and shut down the screen. Pepper had one thing right; he could avoid making the same mistake with Steve that he had with her.

“If I may, sir, Captain Rogers often orders from McNally’s Deli in Brooklyn. He’s fond of the roast beef with horseradish on rye.”

Tony rolled his eyes at Jarvis’ nanny-like tendencies. Why he’d programmed the A. I. that way, he couldn’t remember. Well, yeah, he could, but he didn’t want to face that truth about himself right now.  
“Call in an order and add a Reuben for me.  See if they have cheesecake. I’ll take a six pack from here; he’ll probably have some domestic stuff.”

* * *

_“You’re unconscious.”_

_Bruce was sitting on the bed, propped up with a pillow, remote in his hand, ratty sweatpants low on his hips, feet tucked under the rumpled covers._

_“No.” Clint shook his head and rolled off the side of the bed, backing away. “I am not doing this. Hell no. Stop it right now.”_

_“Why?” the little brown-haired girl asked, head tilted as she squinched up her nose, confusion on her face. “This is a place of your own design.  Why would you not want this?”_

_“He’s not real, just an illusion I’ve created. I want him, not this.” Clint put his hand on the messy desk, papers strewn across it, Bruce’s glasses lost under a stack of tests, and he steadied himself. “It hurts.”_

_“Ah, yes, human emotions. They are very … complex. Confusing. Your brains are an interesting mixture of logic and irrationality. The metaphors and symbols you needed to communicate were unexpected.”  She was a grown woman now, hair tucked neatly behind her ears, jeans and a solid blue t-shirt, much like Natasha would wear. “Where would be more amenable for you?”_

_The breeze from the water flowed over him, and he found a bench for them to settle down on, looking out over Charleston harbor. He’d enjoyed that mission here, the safe house South of Broad street; he and Phil had found the best seafood place, one where they backed the boats up, dumped the shrimp right into the boiling water and served them up by the bucketful. Neutral ground._

_“What happened to all the cryptic remarks, movie quotes?” The hurting part of Clint wanted her to go away, but he knew that there was a danger out there and it was still his job to deal with it. After that, the world could go to hell._

_“You no longer need to filter the conversation through your conscious mind, and the evolution is moving at a faster pace than anticipated.” She kicked her shoes off and ran her toes through the grass of the Battery’s park. “So many new experiences.”_

_“You’re the Tesseract. And for some reason, you’re helping us understand who’s attacking us.” Yes, Clint could care about finding the bastards and doing a little avenging of his own. That was an acceptable reason to delay the howling void inside that want to consume him._

_“They’re looking to take the power, and their purpose does not bode well for this world. But they miscalculated, did not understand how important you were in the process. They did not count on human  being so adaptable, shining so brightly.” She laughed, a rich sound that grated against Clint’s rough edges. A seagull swooped down in front of him, captured a meal and flew away as the trees rustled around them, the stately homes just behind. Peaceful, quiet, no thinking required._

_“You like us,” Clint said. “Despite what we’ve done with you.” If he let the thoughts just come, didn’t try at all, they floated in with the waves that buffeted the rocky shoal._

_“Oh, there has been evil and suffering, yes. But there is intelligence and beauty and such depths to your emotions that confound rational thought. The … what’s the word? … love ... Frigga has shown for the man who is not her son, the care Thor has for others, the wonder that Selvig has for the knowledge handed him, the sacrifice Coulson willingly made.” Her voice was filled with awe. “And you, Clint Barton, so much heart to give, such intuitive leaps. As you would say, Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man that he didn’t already have.”_

_He should have made a joke about old ‘70s songs, but that took more energy than he cared to muster. Best to save it all for the last push. “So why don’t you just tell me what’s going on? Some rule about being obtuse?”_

_“Because you are the one who can make the connections. Creatures of science deal only in facts and data; inference is your area of expertise.” She said, watching a sailboat make its way across the choppy water._

_Dropping into silence, Clint cast his thoughts back, letting the go where they would. No tether, no anchor, just going with the wind; the first dreams, the first day time vision – he sank into the memory of Bruce’s kiss, the warmth of the sun, the Hulk’s laugh. His eye caught the white Victorian home on the corner; he remembered joking with Phil about it being haunted, about coming back one day and staying in the room with the ghost. Bruce would have loved that, a weekend in the historic old city with its open air market, quaint horse drawn carriages, wonderful food scene, and a ghostly visitation in the night. They could even sit right here and watch the water while Bruce talked about the Civil War and the American Revolution … Clint ruthlessly dragged himself away from those memories, thoughts, slamming the lid on the well of suffering that opened under his feet. Right now, he needed to stay focused._

_“What do I infer? Neo has to believe he’s the one to save Morpheus. My theory of Indy is that it didn’t matter which cup he picked in the cave; he chose with wisdom, for all the right reasons,” Clint mused out loud. “The right question, you keep saying? Well, the question I want answered is what happened, why he split into two ….”_

_Choose wisely. It was always inside of them, the whole time, Neo and Indy and Alice and the others. He knew then, just like he knew he loved Bruce, balls to bones. The missing variable was their wants and desires, human will, strong enough to bend the power of the Tesseract._

_“Bruce and Carol were inside the sphere. Carol, adrenaline junkie, DNA already compromised by the explosion, mixed now with Mar-Vell’s. Primed and ready to be a superhero. And Bruce, back to his old self, before the Hulk, free to travel and live a life without looking over his shoulder.” Mind jumping, faster now, seeing the pattern. “M87. Black Holes. Alternative worlds that have tiny little doors like Wonderland and can be manipulated like the Matrix. The black vortex in the middle of the sphere.” He started to stand, to tell someone what he suspected, but he fell back, a heavy weight in pressing down on his chest._

_“Here, have a cookie. You’ll feel right as rain after,” the Oracle smiled at him, offering a plate. “This form is very wise. I think I like it.”_

_The cookie was, of course, oatmeal raisin. Clint ate the whole thing._

* * *

 

Tony hesitated, hand poised to knock, wondering if he was wrong. He had no instincts when it came to this kind of thing; machines, robots … those he understood. They did what they were programmed to do. If they malfunctioned, he could take them apart and fix them. People, not so much.

The door opened before his knuckles connected with the wood; Steve stood there in khakis, his button-down untucked, a bottle of beer in his hand.  “You going to come in?”

“Damn good hearing, Cap.” Tony sauntered into the small apartment, no more than one large room and a bedroom. Tony often wondered why Steve kept this place, the one SHIELD had given him when he’d first woken up when he had his place in the Tower. “I brought subs. Jarvis insisted I eat, so you may as well benefit from his nagging.”

Steve took the brown paper bag and sat it on the table, drawing two plates out of the cabinet; Tony would have just unrolled the parchment paper and spread it out beneath the messy sandwich, but Steve was a plate and napkin kind of guy. And that pretty much summoned up their differences, didn’t it? Tony put the craft beer he’d brought into the fridge, pulled out one for himself, and then slumped into the metal vintage diner chair. The food did look really good; his stomach rumbled loudly because it remembered how long it had been empty. He took a big bite to avoid talking, and then a second because the corned beef was spiced perfectly, the bread thick and fresh.

“Any news on Clint or the Hulk?” Steve broke the silence, as always, easing their way into the conversation they needed to have; Tony had checked right before he left.

“Clint’s still unconscious. They’re worried about internal bleeding from the broken ribs, and the break in his arm will need some pins.  Hulk’s high on some elephant-sized sedatives, still fading in and out of control. He keeps talking, half the time insisting the Little Guy is gone, the other half acting as if he’s there.”  Tony didn’t want to think of the implications if the Hulk couldn’t pull out of this. Not to the team, not to Clint.

“It’s as if the Hulk knew, like they were still connected.” Steve stole one of Tony’s beers when his ran dry. “Something just isn’t tracking right, but, damned if I can lay my finger on what it is.”

They kept eating, Tony worrying that he was supposed to say something but not knowing what to say, finishing another set of beers between them and starting on new bottles. Maybe there was an algorithm for this sort of thing? Yeah, Tony could do that, come up with some if/then scenarios for various situations, pre-established responses, opening gambits, get it all loaded up in Jarvis for just such a moment. His brain had started working through the bootstrap program when he noticed the half-smile on Steve’s face, the way his arm draped over the back of the chair, bottle hanging in his hand, his legs stretched out under the table.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s enough that you’re here. You don’t have to say anything,” Steve eyed a thick slice of New York cheesecake Tony had brought for him.

“Oh, thank god,” Tony slumped in his chair, relaxing. “I’m not fucking Dr. Phil. I’ve got no idea what to do next. Wouldn’t even be here if Pepper hadn’t kicked my ass into gear.”

“You’d still be in the lab getting angry and probably half-way through a bottle of whiskey.” Steve really did know Tony well. “If this was still the war, I’d be out with the Commandos, and we’d have made it through three or four bottles by now. We’d drink a couple toasts to Bruce, then drink some more just because we were alive and could. Then I’d put them into taxis and send them home and stay for a while by myself.”

Tony flinched at the sound of Bruce’s name. “Well, when you put it that way, nice to know we’re both pretty fucked up when it comes to dealing with this shit.”

“Everybody is, Tony.” Steve sat the bottle down and opened the plastic top to the desert; he slid a fork over to Tony and took a big taste for himself. “Right now, we’re going to eat this cake and talk about what to do tomorrow.” He slid the fork full into his mouth; Tony’s cock took note of the way those firm lips closed over the tines, and how Steve’s tongue caught the crumbles that clung to the plastic.

“I can do that.” The cake was good too. They needed to put the deli on speed dial, see if they’d deliver to the Tower. “Plans. I can make plans. As long as they involve doing something instead of sitting around and crying. You can leave me out of that scenario.”

“No crying. Check.” Steve did it again, this time watching Tony watch him, flicking out his tongue to wipe the creaminess that was clinging to the corner of his mouth. “After we’re done, I’m going to take you into my bedroom, lay you down on that very soft mattress I bought, and fuck you until there’s no breath left in you.”

Tony choked on his bite, eyes watering as the crumbs when down his windpipe, swigging his beer to clear his throat. “Um, really, alright, I mean, now? Are you sure? Because I thought … pasta pescadore … right time … not that I’ll say no or anything … unless it’s wrong to … you know … because of …”

“I’m sure. We don’t have the luxury of time, Tony. That’s what today has taught me. Any of us.  And I need to be close to you … cuddler, remember? And mostly, I just damn well want you.”

Tony took a big chunk of the cheesecake leaving only a small bite for Steve. “You expect me to plan after that little declaration, you’re crazy.” He cleaned off his fork and dropped it on his plate.

“Okay, planning after.” Steve stood, meeting Tony as he surged up from his chair, their lips coming together. Almost desperate on Steve’s part, the kiss melted their mouths together,  Steve’s big hands clasping around Tony’s neck, fingers threading into his spiky hair. They were moving across the room, Tony stumbling backwards as Steve directed, pausing to peel off shirts and t-shirts, kick off shoes, unbuckle belts, unzip pants, shed their underwear, banging into the doorframe as they made their way to the foot of the double bed.  Tony’s calves bumped into the mattress and then he was sprawling on his back, Steve following him down, covering Tony’s body with his own.

Kisses rained between them the whole way, mouths parting only when clothes were removed or as Tony yelped when his elbow connected to the wall, twisting and turning against each other.  Laid out on the bed, Tony let Steve take the lead; he kept pace, lifting his hips as Steve’s came down, rubbing their cocks together, sharing one long moan between them in the wet space of the their mouths.  And the strangest thing happened; with each slow grind, every slide of lips, swipe of tongue, glide of hand over skin, Tony felt the weight on his soul begin to lessen. Little by little, the guilt and anger and grief and frustration weakened its hold on his chest; the endless loop of blame and regret in his head slowed, overwhelmed by Steve’s murmurs , his sharp little breaths when Tony’s hands settled on his hips, the throaty moan when the head of his cock caught on Tony’s.  He’d tried many things in his life to forget, to deal with the shit that weighted him down; alcohol, drugs, parties, lavish lifestyles, mindless faceless sex, and none of it had done more than give him a fake reprieve, a momentary high that did nothing more than remind him of how far he had to fall.  But this? This was taking him somewhere he’d never been before, Steve pulling him out of the darkness with his very presence. It had started the minute they sat down at the table, as if somehow just being in the same room helped, but, god, the touch of his body, of his hands and mouth and his breath were doing what Tony thought couldn’t be done – make him stop thinking.

“Tony,” Steve’s mouth broke free; his voice was deep and filled with lust. “I forgot I was supposed to ask. Is it okay if I fuck you? If you want to be on top …”

How could someone look so completely blasted by need and still blush? Something lurched in Tony, sputtered, rusty from disuse.

“Steve Rogers, would you please fuck me?” Tony ran his hand across those magnificent abs. “Now would be good. Sooner rather than later. Hard and fast until I shut up.”

Ah, god, Steve gave him that geeky little half-smile, the one where Tony could see the scrawny insecure kid he used to be, and then he reached over to the bedside table and pulled out lube and a condom from the drawer. At Tony’s look, he shrugged and blushed some more.

“I really was a Boy Scout. Started stashing them everywhere.” Steve slicked up his hand with the sticky gel, rubbed them together to warm them, and Tony closed his eyes at the first touch, a gentle cup of his balls and then fingers running up the vein, circling the head.  A good portion of Tony’s brain shut down, blood draining to his crotch, the sensation of Steve’s hand slowly pumping him drowning out the negative voices that always played on a loop in stereo. 

When the first finger circled his tight muscle, Tony blinked and saw Steve’s face, drawn in concentration, so serious and intense. “I bet you studied up, didn’t you?”

Steve bit his lip as he pushed in up to his knuckle. “Damn straight. Watched porn online.”

“Ah, hell, you watching porn. Now that’s something I’d like to see.” Tony arched up giving Steve more access. “Not going to break, Cap. Can we do this?”

With a growl, Steve pushed his finger all the way in and rotated it; Tony groaned in response. He caught Tony’s ass in his other hand, lifted him up and slid his knees underneath, spreading Tony’s legs on either side of him. Bearing down, he sank his fingers into Tony’s skin just along his hip bone as he worked him open until he could add a second finger. “Listen to me Tony. I need this, need to be with you, to know you’re alright and here and not …” His breath caught in his throat; the words slammed into Tony’s body like blows, the emotion so raw it ripped at his chest, tried to tear him open. The press of Steve’s fingers, what he was saying -- even the part of his brain that was always calculating numbers started to falter and come to a halt. “Got to be inside of you, to see you fly apart, know that I can do that, that I have that.” Three fingers now and Tony let out a strangled cry when Steve brushed against that spot, twisting his hands in the quilt because he couldn’t reach Steve to hang on. “I’ll let you wrap yourself up in your work if you need to, but I’m going to be there, bend you over that damn work table if I have to, fuck you until we both know that we’re safe and alive and everything is as good as it can be.”

“Steve.” The image of Steve taking him in the lab exploded in Tony’s head. “Please.”

Fingers left, foil crinkled, more lube, and Tony watched through hooded eyes as Steve rolled the condom down his large length, so hard and red, quivering at the touch of his own hand. Then Steve was pushing in, slowly, savoring every second of sheathing himself inside, and Tony watched the emotions rolling through those blue eyes as Steve experienced the tightness, the heat, for the first time.  

“Tony,” he drew the name out as he settled in, and Tony could feel himself stretching to accommodate Steve’s girth, so full and so good that he knew he was going to have to do this again. A lot.

“You going to do this, Turbo Rocket, or not?”                                                                          

Pressing Tony’s knees to apart further, Steve came down on his hands, eased almost all the way out and then slipped back in. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to mark me. Leave me some bruises to rub over tomorrow to remember you were here.” Tony wiggled, impatient for Steve to drive into him and drive out the demons that threatened to come back far too easily.

“You’re going to know I was inside of you. Don’t worry about that.” He lifted onto one hand – and Tony was mesmerized by the shift of Steve’s chest muscles, the ease with which he kept himself up – and wrapped his fingers around one of Tony’s wrists, then shifted to trap the other with the first.  He gave a series of shallow pulses in and out, testing angles, making Tony jump beneath him. Once he found the spot he liked, Steve settled into a slow but steady pace, Tony meeting him halfway, faster and faster, ratcheting up the speed until Steve was thrusting hard, pushing Tony up against the head of the bed, the wooden headboard creaking to the rhythm of their bodies.

“That’s it, that’s the spot,” Tony groaned as jolts of pleasure rocked his body, Steve leaving no room for anything else in Tony’s brain. “Come on, fuck me, Steve. Do it.”

That pushed Steve over an edge; control slipped and Steve was lost, harder thrusts, breathy groans; Tony’s cock was aching, but he couldn’t free his hands from Steve’s tight grip, knowing he’d have bracelets of purple finger print bruises in the morning, and that thought made him moan out loud.

“Going to come for me, Tony if I tell you how I need to remember that we have time, another day, another minute together?” Steve hung his head down, dropping a kiss on Tony’s neck, letting his body trap Tony’s cock between them, the sweet friction of the drag and slide of slick skin spreading the leaking liquid between them. “I don’t want to think about what if, just want to be pounding inside of you like this until I can’t breathe …”

The last did Tony in; he twitched and arched up as he came, bucking against Steve’s hands which only grew tighter as Steve thrust a few more times then followed  Tony over the edge into his own orgasm.  Somehow, Steve kept himself up as they shuddered through the after tremors; rolling off of Tony, he flopped down on his back. The bed wasn’t really big enough for both of them, and Tony jostled Steve for room.

“Two words, dude. California King.” Tony sighed and let Steve throw his leg over his. They lay there for a few moments, breathing together, Tony feeling weightless for a time before he felt the anxiety seeping back into his bones, doubt wrapping around his brain stem like an old friend. “It should have been one of us, me or Clint.”

“What?” Steve turned his head, confused. Tony kept staring at the small water stain on the ceiling.

“We talked about it, how we’re just plain vanilla humans. You and … the Hulk are virtually indestructible. In ten years, you and Thor and Natasha and now Carol, probably, will still be going strong. Clint and I will be complaining about our bad knees and backs, if we’re lucky. We thought we’d be the first ones down,” Tony said, quietly. 

“Natasha?” Steve asked.

“Oh, damn, forget I mentioned that. Super triple top secret files I’m not supposed to have. She’ll kill me.” Tony actually felt a little fear shoot through him. He should never have read the damn thing, but curiosity, cat, and Tony was a sucker for knowledge.

“The Red Room? I heard rumors they were testing super serums, surgeries, some real atrocities,” Steve mused. “But you and Clint. Talking about it? Preparing for when …”

“Yeah. I just never imagined ….”

“No one did.” Steve lifted up off the bed and padded over to the bathroom, tossing Tony a towel.

“Now we find who did this and take them down.” Tony’s voice was harsh.

“Now we take care of Clint and the Hulk. I’m not buying Clint’s calm act. He’s going to fall hard. Soon.” Steve walked out to the kitchen, and Tony registered the man’s muscles, the hollows where his ass met his thighs, the half-hard cock. Damn. He came back in with the second piece of cheesecake, this one chocolate. “What?” he asked at Tony’s look. “I’m hungry.” He dropped two forks on the quilt.

“Eating in bed? Pretty rebellious, Captain Rogers.” Ton snagged the first bite as Steve sat down. “What’s next?”

“Pushing you off the edge if you’re not careful,” Steve warned.

“Already did that, Cap. Now, I’m thinking we start by tracking backwards from the last event …”

* * *

 

Ceiling tiles in medical rooms were all the same; white with small holes, suspended in row after row. Clint stared up at them, pulling himself out of the morass of darkness that tried to drag him back down. He had a goal now, one that would take him through the next day or so. Turning his head, he saw Natasha in one of the uncomfortable waiting chairs, legs curled up under her, head resting on the wall. Her eyes were closed but she wasn’t really asleep; even when she was, she could come completely awake in an instant.

“Tasha.” He had to clear his throat; the air tubes in his nose made him stuffy and dry mouthed. Raising his hand, he calmly pulled out the IV needle, using the sheet to stop the bleeding.  “How’s the Big Guy?”

“First thing you ask?” She opened only her eyes, not moving another muscle. “Not ‘how am I’ or ‘what happened’?”

“I think I’ve figured a big part of this out.  Let’s get everyone together to make a battle plan.” He pushed up, tossing the air tube over his head and onto the flat pillow.

Natasha was out of the chair and at his side in a second. “You’ve got broken ribs and internal bleeding …” All she could do was stare at him as he swung his feet over the side of the bed and jumped down.

“I’m fine. I ate a cookie.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it already was. “Where is he?”

“Clint. You shouldn’t be able to walk much less stand. The doctors are going to want to check you out before you go running off on some tangent. So sit down.” She used her scary voice, the one that made even Fury blink; Clint didn’t even feel it, the numbness crawling into his brain, deadening him to everything but his purpose.

“No time for that. They’ll be coming for the Hulk next, if I’m right.” Maybe it was because she was surprised by his lack of reaction or because she could see the difference in him; whatever reason, Natasha let him walk to the door before she spoke again.

“The gown’s a nice touch by the way.”

Cool air brushed across his naked ass from the tied openings in the back of the hospital gown; no matter how nice hospital gowns might be, there was never enough coverage. “Right. Battle gear, then the Big Guy.”

It didn’t take him long to make his way to his room; the looks and double-takes didn’t register as he walked through the hallways and caught the elevator up. But his door gave him pause; he steeled his resolve and entered, ignoring the little reminders scattered throughout – a blue sweater across the back of the couch, tea tin on the counter, the towel on the rack that Clint was wearing when he kissed Bruce there in the doorway … The grief spiraled up from the box he’d locked it in, right next to the shattered pieces of his heart. Eyes frosted over, throat swelled, and he viciously controlled himself, digging his short nails into the palms of his clenched hands. Even that pain paled in comparison, so he unleashed the anger he’d chained down, the need to feel a bow in his hands and the vibration of the string burning away the threatening tears. It was enough to get him dressed and armed, the smooth curve of the wood soothing him back into numbness. Nastasha stayed with him the whole way; she might have been talking to someone on the comm, but Clint let all of that fade into the background. He knew she was worried – she got one tiny line on her forehead just above her left eyebrow – but she didn’t interfere so she, too, was pushed out of his consciousness once she told him where they were keeping the Hulk.

The Big Guy looked ragged and worn out; Clint had never seen such despair on his face except once, in a dream, locked in a closet. Without hesitation, Clint opened the door, walked in, and held his arms out to the figure seated on the floor, back against a wall. Big green hands reached and enveloped Clint, dragging him, still upright, onto the Hulk’s lap; Clint ran his hand through the Hulk’s hair, wrapping an arm around the massive neck.

“Hulk break Cupid.” Just a whisper in Clint’s ear.

“You were upset, and I’m fine.” Clint pulled back so the Hulk could get a good look at him. “See?”

“Little Guy?” what sounded suspiciously like a sniffle proceeded the question. “Here, but not here? Hurts.”

“Yeah, it hurts, Big Guy. Right now we need to finish this then we’ll worry about that, okay?” Clint couldn’t go there, not yet, not with Natasha and others watching. “You think you can smash these guys if I can get you close to one of them?”

A frown and the Hulk’s eyes gleamed with anger. “Make them stop and put Little Guy back.” He slapped his own chest, and Clint looked away before the Hulk could see the truth.

“Alright then, let’s get everyone together. We’re done playing defense. Time to bring the fight to them.”

 


	9. Now I'm Only Falling Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another door, a room, a bed – and big green arms were holding him, easing him down as the shudders racked his body, great heaving sobs bursting out of his throat. The smell of burned flesh, the crooning voice of the Hulk as he rocked Clint, Natasha shutting the door and Clint could only repeat, over and over again, “He’s not coming back. He’s not coming back.” He was lost in his grief, and there was nothing to do but let it take him down into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope it all comes together here for you. It's a balance of explaining everything but also telling a good story for me. Let me know what you think.

“You want to do what?” Tony asked, rounding on Clint, temper flaring; Clint remained calm and closed off, a blank mask in place of his normally expressive face. Steve was worried; Clint was keeping his emotions on a tight leash, but his hands were clenched and he ground them against his thighs. The stress was going to catch up to the man eventually; Steve just hoped that someone was around to catch Clint when he finally fell off the tightrope he was walking.

“They’ll attack again. We’ve proven to be unpredictable and a threat; now that they know the Tesseract is here, they’ll want to take out the targets most likely to stop them. The Hulk’s next up on the list. We should watch Carol as well. But they’ve taken all of our measures by now.” Clint didn’t stop walking, heading for the practice room where the Hulk had been moved; Steve had agreed that letting the Big Guy be part of this was crucial, even though he had his reservations about the Hulk’s stability at the moment. The practice room had more space and offered more offensive options in case another sphere appeared. “The last two were clearly aimed at getting rid of us, knocking out the electronics and going for high value targets.”

“You want to run into one of those things? Not a good idea.” Tony stepped in front of Clint, blocking his way. “Look what’s happened so far when someone was inside a sphere. That’s how we got into this in the first place! If the Hulk hadn’t plowed in without thinking, Bruce would be here right now.”

The temperature dropped in the hallway; Clint’s eyes went dark, his jaw clenched, and he swung a round house punch right into Tony’s jaw, knocking him flat on his ass before Steve could step between them. “Don’t you ….” Clint stopped himself, dragged in an audible breath and settled his calm façade back into place. “They’re coming for us. We either strike back or we all go down, and those spheres are the only way to do it.” Stepping around Tony, Clint kept going, not even looking back.

Tony took Steve’s offered hand and got up. He rubbed his jaw, shifting it back and forth to check for breaks. “Okay, hair trigger there. He’s a time bomb waiting to go off. Wants us to go rushing into one of those things? We don’t even know that we can communicate through it.”

“Actually, I think he’s right.” Steve started after Clint. ”So far, we’ve offered no resistance, just reacted. It may be time to send them a clear message that we can and will fight back. Besides, it’s only been those exposed to the Tesseract or gamma radiation that have been affected.”

“Don’t forget that Clint was inside that one in the med bay, the one that came out of Bruce’s body. If  the damn things can make a brand new, non-hulked out Bruce, fuse Carol’s DNA, what did it do to Clint?” Tony argued.

“Damn it, Tony. You of all people should get it; this is a suicide mission for him.” Steve knew it was harsh even as it came out of his mouth, but he couldn’t call the words back, nor did he want to. “The least we can do is make sure he doesn’t succeed.” They’d reached the door by then; Steve strode into the room, leaving Tony sputtering in the hallway. Thor, Jane, Natasha, and Carol were already there; Clint had drifted over towards the Hulk who was maintaining his distance from the others.

“Steve! Jane has brought the most interesting data. She believes she knows where these attacks originate,” Thor’s voice boomed across the room.

“M87. Clint said Eric mentioned it. The Hubble telescope recently discovered what might be a black hole there. What with the portal opening here in New York, and the verification of the Einstein Rosen bridge, Eric was working on a new project based on a fascinating theory from a young physicistChaoue out of Austria who posits that ….”

“Jane,” Thor gently interrupted. “Perhaps you could tell them about the relevant part first?”

She blushed, tucking her hair back from her face. “Sorry. I get caught up. Anyway, there’s Tesseract type of energy coming from M87 and … here’s the best part … a new unknown type of cosmic radiation that matches our sphere energy.”

“They’re coming through the black hole?” Steve asked, glad that Clint had introduced him to the show _Stargate_. There’d even been an episode about event horizons and time dilation. He’d never admit it to Tony, but he learned a lot more about the scientific concepts by watching something like that than reading the briefing files. “I thought nothing could travel through those without getting ripped apart.”

“Unless it’s a stabilized wormhole instead; even then nothing but the tiniest of particles could pass through, but that’s all they would need. The Tesseract is pure energy, after all.” Tony entered the conversation. No one mentioned the purple and red bruise blossoming on his face. “The problem is how they open the thing on this side.”

“The thing attacked specific targets in the lab,” Carol said. “How did it know where we were? Or to go right for the computer? That means they’d have to have some way of watching in real time or close to it.”

Tony bounced on his feet, the problem energizing him, the rapid fire conversation fueling his curious mind. Steve could see Tony’s fingers in motion, tapping together in increasingly complex rhythms on his leg.

“I think I might be able to help you with that.” Eric Selvig came through the door; he looked rumpled and unkempt. But then, Steve thought, Selvig always looked that way. Jane ran to hung him, and he smiled at her. “She said you needed me,” Selvig said to her.

“Did you ask her out?” Jane teased, and he blushed.

“I think I can make one of those spheres open and keep it here, catch it in something like a net. If you have a computer I could use?” he asked; Tony pulled up a screen and Selvig began entering a formula, typing with two fingers on the keyboard that appeared on the bottom. Tony watched over Selvig’s shoulder; within seconds, he was riffing on the basic structure, tweaking the numbers, completely engrossed.

“What if it’s a small one?” Steve asked, not even pretending to understand what was going on with the scientists. He was thinking more about logistics and battle plans. Who would step in and what they might encounter inside.

“The unusual reading I mentioned in the med bay?” Hank Pym spoke from behind them; he must have come in with Selvig, but Steve missed him. Pulling up a chart on his tablet, he tossed it to Tony. “These specific particles. I know what they are; they’re sort of my pet project, what I use for my suit. I’ve been working with them for a few years now.”

“You discovered these?” Tony asked. “Can they enlarge as well as shrink?”

“Yes, given the right combinations. It’s how the spheres change size.” The doctor nodded. “They may also be involved with the Hulk’s transformation; I’d need more time to study that to be sure, but I think ….”

“I’ll get you a whole floor of labs for that, but for now, I need you to get to work with these Pym particles so we can stabilize the size we want,” Tony said, tossing some data back over. “Welcome to the team, Hank.”

* * *

Clint was used to staying still for long periods of time; as a sniper, he often spent hours, sometimes days, in the same location, gathering intel, casing a target, waiting for a shot. He’d long ago learned how to let his mind focus, blocking out everything but the one main goal. As he sat cross legged on the floor, not quite up against the wall because of his quiver but close enough to still rest the top of his head on the smooth surface, he sank into a numb state of mind. Waiting was the worst part; being ready to move at any second while not drifting too far away; he’d mastered that technique through some training with Buddhist monks in Sri Lanka. Open mind, close thoughts, let the events and words wash over him. Clint knew he had to do everything to stop the memories and emotions from rising to the surface if he was going to make it through this.

The Hulk sat by him for a while, stroking his hand along Clint’s arm, but the Big Guy couldn’t contain himself long, filled with jumpy nerves and worry; Steve and Thor ended up distracting him on the far side of the room with a video game. Clint could hear the whoops and cheers – the Hulk played _Halo_ the same way he watched movies – but he let it go, safe in the knowledge that the others would watch out for the Big Guy. Natasha slid down the wall and settled in next to him, her usual taciturn self; this was how she handled things, no talking, no ‘how do you feel’ questions, just a solid presence that would be there if he needed her. Which, he knew deep down, he didn’t. No one – Tasha included – could help him.

Conversations ebbed and flowed around him; he picked out pieces here and there as he waited.

 

“… the co-efficient has to change for that to be possible,” Pym was arguing. “They don’t work the same with humans as they do with inanimate objects.”

“Then we’ll have to change the force applied …” Selvig’s voice faded.

 

“… cover the retreat, there’s more behind the hill,” Steve said as he slammed his thumb on the button to fire.

“Hulk see them,” the Big Guy growled as shots sounded from the scene.

 

“… cloning technique that Mar-Vell knows about. It wouldn’t show up on any of our scans because we’d think it was just a residual effect of the sphere.” Carol was keeping her voice very low, but Clint’s hearing was sharp enough to pick it out. “The data supports the theory; the decay rate of his body is far too fast, and there’s a troubling half-life reading.”

“But the bow didn’t show any signs of that,” Tony argued. “It’s sitting in my lab waiting to be fixed.”

“Tesseract power, that’s what Clint used. Bruce was something different …” Carol turned her back and Clint lost the thread of the conversation as the Hulk cheered the completion of the level.

 

“…should hold, but it will take constant monitoring,” Selvig was saying.

“We can use an oscillating scale …” Pym answered.

 

“…. know enough about what’s happened to you. You’re staying outside with Hank and Selvig,” Tony insisted.

“The hell I am. You try and stop me, Tony Stark, and I’ll …” Carol snapped back.

 

_“Quite a motley crew you’ve collected … it’s getting bigger, I see.” Loki extended his long legs out in front of him, crossing his jean-clad ankles, resting his leather-coat against the wall next to Clint. “Selvig I know. Tall and skittish scientist? All human there. Must be here for his brain. Stark will be jealous. Lovely blonde? Now she looks promising! Something alien about her, isn’t there? New toys are so much fun.”_

_God, he’d thought he was done with these things; Clint closed his eyes and willed the bastard away, Neo style. He was already on his one last nerve; he didn’t need Loki’s bullshit._

_“So the plan is to confront whoever is doing this? Typical.” Loki just kept on talking. “Although the whole black hole thing is very informative, I must say. Ah, what have we here? Another new face ….”_

“Clint, dear, I need you to open your eyes for me. And Loki? You can go home now.” The Tesseract stood in front of them, the woman Clint had dreamed of on the bench in Charleston, dressed now in a lovely blue dress that flowed over her curves. “It is time.”

“Um, Clint? You want to introduce us to your new friend?” Tony was the first to speak.

“This is … Tessa. Used to be a shiny blue glowy cube. Now she’s not.” Clint stood, stretching his muscles and shaking out his body, bow in hand. “She’s going to help us out.”

“My lady,” Selvig greeted her warmly, stopping short of where she was standing and inclining his head. “You look lovely in this form.”

“Thank you, Eric.” She nodded back. “But I’m afraid you’ve little time. They are preparing their next strike even as we speak.”

That pronouncement caused a flurry of activity; questions flew, people stood and grabbed weapons, quick decisions were made. Clint ignored it all, standing with his feet apart, balancing on his toes, aware of the preparations, but separate from it all. After a moment or two, Carol moved beside him in her jeans and Queen t-shirt, determination in her stance. On the other side, Natasha stepped up, a silent presence. The Hulk moved in behind him, Steve on the back left, Thor, back right. Tony was still making plans with Pym and Selvig and Jane when Jarvis sounded the warning and the sphere appeared, a small one this time, tendrils already shooting out even as it materialized.  Thor raised Mjolnir, and the electricity bent and collected around the hammer, not hitting any of its intended targets. Threads of light appeared from the room’s laser system, trapping the sphere; it shimmered, expanded, contracted, then began to grow, sides undulating as it became large enough for them all to enter.

“Alright, let’s do this smart, people,” Steve said.

Clint didn’t hesitate, crossing the filmy barrier with Carol and Natasha.  He’d expected some resistance, but there was nothing, no sensation at all, as he stepped through into the circle. Cold sank into his bones; he’d expected that as he came to a stop far enough in for the others to follow.  The sparks that jumped towards them were diverted to Thor who wrapped them around his hammer, lighting the dim space. The floor beneath was still the practice room or at least it looked the same.

“Okay. That was anti-climactic,” Tony complained, his voice mechanized through his suit. “Helloooooooooo?  Anybody home?”

“Really?” Carol huffed. “What’s next, knock, knock?”

The Hulk let lose a ground-shaking roar, issuing a challenge.

“Okay. That might work,” Tony said.

The mist in front of Clint churned, folding in and flattening until a face appeared. To say the image was hideous didn’t do it justice. If someone had taken the scariest monsters in all of Earth culture and morphed them together, this visage was worse. Putrid skin festered with sores, misshapen eyes ran with greenish pus, the lump that passed for a nose slid down his face, overhanging a sewn closed slit that should be a mouth.

“Damn,” Tony exclaimed. “Dude, that is fugly. Okay, who thought of that? I was thinking of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.”

“I was going for the Great and Powerful Oz, myself,” Carol replied.

It didn’t matter to Clint what the damn thing looked like; he raised his bow, aimed an arrow straight at its face, and counted to 10. If he got to one, he was going for the shot. On 4, the thing spoke.

“Dare challenge?” The voice was chittering, like the sound of cricket legs rubbing together, with a high pitched edge. “Give the power, the Lingha. No more aggression”

“No.” That was Steve. Simple and declarative. “Leave us alone, and we won’t destroy you.”

The sound might have been laughter, but it was acute and excruciating to human ears; Clint didn’t flinch, just waited it out.

“Chaoue take, Nomin suffer. Give the Lingha.” The face rippled, the mist moving across it like a disruption. Not real then, just a projection.

“No.” This time, Tony answered.

“Then pain.”

The Hulk howled, dropping to his knees, hands clenched around his head. Carol gasped and doubled over, her hands beginning to glow blue. Clutching his bow, Clint fought the wave of nausea that rolled through him …

_“Are we doing the Wizard of Oz now? Or that silly movie about ghosts and nuclear accelerator backpacks? I do not understand the appeal of that one.” Loki stood at the end of the long hallway, black suit, white shirt, tie, dark shades covering his eyes. Green numbers ran down what should have been the circumference of the sphere, programming code that cascaded around them._

_Inside room 303 in the Heart o’ the City hotel, a phone was ringing._

_“Are you going to help or stop me?” Clint asked the Asgardian._

_“If I help, will you make Thor tell mother that I did? Perhaps see if I can at least get a visit from her?” Loki tilted his top hat._

_“Yes.” If he survived, Clint would do it. What difference would it make anyway?_

_Loki looked at him, seeing right through him, knowing Clint’s intentions. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Answer the phone, and remember what he said to you. You have get them to close the connection. Once the Tesseract is fully evolved, they will not be able to control her power anymore.”_

_Clint picked up the receiver of the ancient rotary dial phone._

_“Follow the White Rabbit and pay no attention to the man behind the curtain,” the familiar voice said._

_“Bruce?” he whispered._

_“The three of us can do anything, Clint. He can’t hurt us anymore. Now get up. And go find me.”_

“Clint?” Steve’s hand shook him again. “We need to find the weak spot and stop it.”

Follow the White Rabbit. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.

He let his eyes go out of focus, watched the rain of numbers crawl down the curved walls, found a place where they split, cascading around a darker shape. The EMP pulse arrow flew true and the floor trembled with the hit, arcs of blue lightning dancing through the mist, interrupting the coding, revealing a circular dark vortex. Turning, he found another spot, aimed and fire. Again and again, until he’d hit five different ones. Behind him, Thor launched Mjolnir and smashed one, energy releasing with a wounded screech that clawed at Clint’s eyes. Steve’s shield took out another, and Tony got the third at almost the same time. The last two moved, sprouting long tentacles that propelled them forward as the face in the mist disappeared.

“Cease!” A different voice, coming from one of the two. Carol pulled herself up, and the Hulk dropped his hands; blood ran from his ears and his nose. “Chaoue angry. Return for Lingha. Destroy Nomin. Why resist?”

“What makes you think you can destroy us? We’re only a few humans. Imagine what the rest of us can do.” Clint spat the words at the octopus-like figures. “The Chauoe might find this planet costs a lot more than you bargained for.”

“Do not understand. Nomin not logical. Nomin fight. What is Lingha to Nomin? Just give.”

“The Tesseract isn’t ours to give. She decides what she wants to do. On Earth, people get to make their own choices,” Tony said. “We don’t traffic in humans. Not even to save the world.”

The two aliens floated towards each other, their arms mingling, sharing blue sparks.

“Chaoue watch, decide. If Lingha is nomin now, must consult.” They chittered between them; the walls of the sphere began to fade, raining down towards the floor.

_“Everyone falls the first time, Clint.” Standing near the ledge, Bruce looked at him. The gap between the buildings yawned before him, far too wide to be crossed._

“Wait.”  Clint pointed an arrow at the head … the vortex … of the nearest Chaoue. “You changed one of us, split him, made him something else. Fix it.”

The blackness of the alien’s center swirled faster, blue mixing with the white lines. “Experiment. Nomin strong. Resisted.”

_The mirror moved, silver wavering, whirling into a pattern, then reaching out for his hand, curling around the tip of his finger and covering up to his wrist, pulling him in._

Red hot rage poured into Clint’s chest, a volcano of it rising up and swamping his very soul. “Fix it or die.”

“Clint,” Steve warned.

A gun cocked and aimed at the second Chaoue’s head. Natasha said, “You heard him. Fix it.”

The Hulk growled. “Want Little Guy. NOW.”

_No bottom to the chasm, no bridge this time, nowhere to go but down. He held his breath and lifted a foot to step out._

Chittering, the whole body swirled, presenting a different view of the blackness. “Pain. Hurt. More than before.  Choose with wisdom.”

_He took the red pill, leaped off the roof without a line, let the mirror pull him down the rabbit hole._

All in the same second, Steve started to speak, Carol’s hand grasped Clint’s shoulder, Thor shifted Mjolnir, readying it, Tony lifted off the ground, and Clint said. “Yes.”

Tentacles whipped out, and the Hulk roared as one burrowed its end into his chest and another circled his throat, squeezing tight.

“Fucking son-of-a-bitch,” Clint ground out between clenched teeth as he reached for the one burning a hole near the Big Guy’s heart; fingers closed around it and razor-sharp needles sank into his flesh, an agony so intense that he screamed as they pierced his skin and blazed their way into his veins. Someone was pulling him away, there was an explosion, blinding light, another high-pitched squeal, and then he was sagging down into Natasha’s arms, barely able to keep conscious.

“Clint!” Thor was shouting but sounded so far away. The room receded as the needles spiked into his body, ripping through his control, forcing the truth upon him. There was still screaming – it might have been him, he couldn’t tell – and a boiling wave of emotion smashed into his chest, driving all the air out of his lungs, hot tears in the corner of his eyes. Natasha was there, her head bent over his, shielding him from the others, eyes wide with concern.

“Get me out of here,” he whispered. “Don’t let them see me like this.”

She lifted him, linking under his good arm to keep him upright. “I’ve got him. Let’s go, Big Guy.”

Feet, feet were needed for walking. He managed to move one, the physical pain of the motion almost welcome because he had to focus on it. A second step by will alone, a third and then his head was spinning, all his carefully built walls starting to crumble, the hellishly deep pit of despair that he’d been ignoring gaping open. There was the door and then the blessedly quieter hallway; boxes of locked torment rattled and shattered as Natasha almost carried him. Another door, a room, a bed – and big green arms were holding him, easing him down as the shudders racked his body, great heaving sobs bursting out of his throat. The smell of burned flesh, the crooning voice of the Hulk as he rocked Clint, Natasha shutting the door and Clint could only repeat, over and over again, “He’s not coming back. He’s not coming back.” He was lost in his grief, and there was nothing to do but let it take him down into the darkness.

* * *

 

_The Hulk was falling and Clint couldn’t reach him; brown eyes pleaded as the shift took him, green skin morphing back into paler flesh, Bruce’s hands outstretched._  

_“Hold on!” Clint shouted.  “Doc. You with me? Damn it, can you hear me?”_

_Clint shot the grappling arrow and launched himself after Bruce, catching his sweaty hand, the pain from his injury unbearable._

_“Hold on!” he shouted then watched with horror as the line unspooled and snapped, flapping away from them and leaving them in free fall, the street rushing up to meet them._

His eyes were dry, his throat sore, muscles cramping in his chest from crying, and he woke screaming Bruce’s name, reaching aimlessly for his bow, cursing the goddamn aliens. Hands stroked him, a simple song hummed in a deep voice, and Clint sank back into the dreams.

_“Cupid okay?” The Hulk was slipping into unconsciousness, big gaping wound in his chest, so it was easy for Clint to hide the numbness that was spreading through his hand._

_“I’m coming,” Clint promised as a pressure like a tight band was sweeping up his arm, constricting his chest; as his heart pounded hard against his chest, he struggled to drag in enough air. His body started trembling, and it took all of his will to open his clenched palm; two slivers of the plastic dispenser were embedded in his skin, and blood welled from cuts. The rest of the pieces fell to the ground, drops of the drug rolling down his unresponsive fingers as his ears rang._

Fighting it, Clint woke up, throwing punches, hearing the Hulk grunt as he hit the already healing wound. Dripping sweat, he dropped back onto the mattress, feeling the effects of whatever drug they’d given him to help him sleep. He didn’t want to sleep.

_“Clint.” The tiniest of murmurs. “I …” Bruce’s eyes drifted closed, too long between breaths._

_“I know, doc. I love you too.” Clint brushed his lips over Bruce’s colder ones and rested their foreheads together, eyes closed, no need to do more than exhale to be heard. “Always will.”_

Drifting up, an easy rise from the depths. Body curled around his, legs tangled together, heavy arm weighing down Clint’s middle, stirs of breath on his neck. Little by little, awareness of the soft cotton sheet, the warm hollow in the mattress, the fold in the pillowcase just beneath his cheek filtered into his sluggish brain. Gossamer brush of lips just behind his ear, along the edge of the lobe, fingers tracing patterns above his hip bone; body stirring, Clint cracked open his eyes and turned his head.

“What the fuck?” He shot up and scrambled away, shock pushing adrenaline through his system, pain flaring up his arm when he put his weight down on his hand.

Bruce blinked, sleepy and confused, and lifted up on one elbow. “Where are we? What happened?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no. How do I know this isn’t another damn dream?” Clint was shaking all over, unable to believe.

“Last thing I remember is … fish men? The Other Guy came out and had a good time ripping them apart. I think there was a fire hydrant? Then … it gets really fuzzy from there. Some sort of meetings with Maria Hill and … Coulson and Carol? That can’t be right.” He rubbed his hand over his eyes then through his hair and noticed he was wearing only his miracle Hulk pants. “Oh. How long was I the Other Guy?”

“Three days, give or take.” Clint slid back and cautiously laid a hand on Bruce’s chest. It felt real, hair curling around his fingers, heart beating steadily under his palm.

“The Other Guy … he was hurt. I couldn’t help him. I wasn’t …” Bruce was getting agitated, sensing that something was wrong.

“Jarvis?” Of course, Clint could dream of the A.I. too. It didn’t prove anything when the familiar voice answered.

“Sir?”

“Could you locate the Hulk for me, please.” He started to curve his hand around Bruce’s neck, needing to feel the warmth of his skin, but Bruce caught it and looked at the burns marring the skin.

“The Hulk is there in the room with you and has been since yesterday when Agent Romanoff brought you here. He has not left at any point.”

Bruce was surprised by the question and answer, but said nothing.

“And Dr. Banner? Is he still in medical?”

“I am sorry, Agent Barton, but I must be malfunctioning as I have two readings for Dr. Banner, the one for his body in medical as well as there with you.”

“I think you’re fine, Jarvis. I’ll take both of them.” Clint pulled Bruce’s hand up to his mouth, dropping a light kiss on those fingers, each one, reveling in the feel of their palms together, uncaring of the ache as he held on.

“The Big Guy?” Clint asked Bruce. “You’re both in there?”

Narrowing his eyes, Bruce answered. “Yes. Where else would he be?”

 “Doesn’t matter now.” Clint gave a real laugh then leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

“You are going to explain all this, right?” Bruce said between kisses.

“Sure. Later. Maybe. Tony might be better at it than me, though.” Clint pressed Bruce back into the bed with a heartfelt sigh and settled on top of him.

“Wait. Did we … with the Hulk …” Bruce started to ask. “That’s impossible.”

“Not impossible, doc. Pretty damn hot.”

 


	10. Epilogue: All I have to Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Race back,” Hulk called behind him. “Clint shower too.”
> 
> “No fair, you’ve got a …” Clint’s brain ground to a halt as it sank in exactly what the Hulk had just said. “Wait.” He grabbed the bag and ran up the sand path, trying to catch up. What the hell? As far as Clint knew, the Hulk never called anyone by name. Natasha was Red, Tony was Metal Head, Thor was Goldilocks … he even called Bruce the Little Guy. Why would he start using Clint’s name instead of Cupid?

Seriously, why the hell did Carol even need to sleep, Tony thought as he walked down the hallway; what with all the modifications to her DNA, she should be running him into the ground and he’d only been going for … four? five? … days with just a few cat naps to keep him going. The last time he’d sleep in a bed, he could still vividly recall Steve’s face when he came, and, damn that made him almost forget what he was going to his lab for in the first place. He could easily just swing on up to Steve’s room, or the kitchen or … what time was it?

“Jarvis?”

“It’s Sunday, December 14th , 6:47 p.m., Sir.”

That was over a week since Jarvis had woken them to say that Bruce was alive; they still weren’t exactly sure how it happened, but Tony’s money was on the fact Bruce had never actually been separate at all, suppressed inside the Hulk and a brain pattern image imprinted on a clone.  When Bruce had insisted on seeing it (which was creepy, Tony thought, but hey, science, right?), they found it was decaying, leaving a cosmic radioactive signature; even Carol agreed the Hulk may have been right when he insisted Bruce was still there. Somehow, the clone and the Hulk had been connected, and the sphere was the key to it all; Selvig and Jane were knee deep in trying to understand all the new information he’d seen in his grand journey of the universe. They’d had a breakthrough yesterday … maybe Friday? Or Thursday? … definitely after Steve had brought in Thai and dragged Tony to the shower and made him change clothes. There’d been kissing, but then Pym shouted, and they’d discovered how to stop the damn things from opening on earth, like Cap’s shield Carol called it which had made Steve inordinately happy. But there was still so much to do, and now Pym and Carol had called it quits, just like that, to get some sleep. Without so much as a “you’re on your own, Tony;” well, Carol had pretty much said that, but Hank had been much more circumspect.

He slammed into his lab, mind already back to the problem, then came to a stop; Steve stood at a table, sitting out take-out cartons, wearing a pair of faded jeans and plain blue t-shirt.  A longer lock of hair curled down onto his forehead – he needed a trim, Tony thought with the functioning part of his brain, the part that wasn’t draining of blood to his cock at the smell of garlic bread and Italian food and the pull of the tight cotton over Steve’s biceps as he slid a blueprint off the table.

“Ah, so this is why Hank and Carol suddenly punked out on me.  Sneaky. I like it.” He picked up an aluminum carton and popped off the white paper lid. “Pescatore? From  Maggie’s, I imagine.” 

Steve offered him a fork when Tony picked up a scallop and ate it with his fingers.  “We’re sharing that, if you don’t mind.”

“What? Like I don’t plan on having my tongue in your mouth shortly after these are empty?” Tony wiggled his eyebrows as Steve. “Oh, yes, I remember. Something about having me over a table in the lab?”

“Nine days, Tony, on very little sleep and too much caffeine … and that’s just me. I can’t imagine how strung out you are.” Steve smiled, and Tony quit writing new coding for the sphere shield program and thought instead of the edges of those lips, the way they’d taste of garlic and butter when he kissed them. “Eat first. Jarvis?”

“Protocol initiated, Captain Rogers,” the AI responded. Lights dimmed, and some smooth jazz music began to play.

“You’ve even enlisted Jarvis?” Tony groused, but that didn’t stop him from loading up his plate with the pasta and taking a glass of wine when Steve handed it to him. “I say again, sneaky bastard.”

“You gave me access and permission, remember?” Steve sat down on the couch along the back wall, the big, wide comfortable one that Tony had moved in when Steve started hanging out in the lab, watching movies and drawing while Tony worked, long before they were sleeping together.  Tony joined him, his stomach growling loud enough that Steve had to laugh.

“Fine. I’ll eat. And after I do, I get to lick some of that tiramisu off of you, and then you can fuck me into the nearest horizontal – or vertical – surface of your choice. Probably need a shower to clean up, and you can talk me into a nap and maybe sleep with me for a couple hours or so. Then I’m going back to work, and that’s my final offer.”  Tony forked up a big bite, and the delicious taste made him stop talking, roll his eyes, and let another drawing he was laying out float out of his consciousness. “Oh, god. Yep. This doesn’t deserve sex. This calls for earth-shattering, loud-screaming, leave bruises for a week sex. This? This is my new secret weapon.”

Steve laughed and then took a big bite; he closed his eyes and sighed. “I just handed you a weakness to exploit, didn’t I?” he asked when he could finally talk.

“Yeah, but I think it’s worth it.” Tony’s look was pure lust, and he loved the way Steve blushed all the way up to the roots of his hair.

“Oh, yes.” Steve looked at him. “Definitely worth it.”

……………………………………..

Sand and water sprayed across Clint’s legs as the Hulk shook himself dry; the Big Guy had dragged himself out of the ocean and back up onto the beach after body surfing for what seemed liked hours. Clint had joined him for a while, but then he’d retreated back to the shade of the big yellow umbrella as the afternoon grew hotter and the air more humid, trying to finish _Dances with Dragons_. At the rate he had time to read, Martin would be out with the next one before he got through this one. He still had the backlog of Dresden books to work on too; he’d started them to read to Carol and now he was hooked as well.

“Hey! Watch it,” Clint mock complained. He couldn’t be mad at the Big Guy, not when they’d had so much fun riding the waves, and the green face was lit up like Christmas morning. Since Bruce had come back … or re-emerged, as Tony thought … the Hulk had been cooperative and happy. After six full days of being poked and prodded, shifting back and forth between the two of them, Bruce had put his foot down and insisted that they have a little time on their own, away from doctors and needles and labs. He’d told Tony they were going to the island, but they’d actually ended up on a different one for privacy reasons, one belonging to some Hollywood star that owed Tony a favor. The news had gotten out to the Army about Bruce’s “separation,” as they’d taken to calling it, and lying low somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean sounded like a good idea. Maria Hill had even agreed – and Clint was still halfway reeling from learning that the woman might not be a Tin Man without a heart after all.

So they’d landed three days ago on this postcard perfect place with a beach that stretched its white shoulder the whole way around, littered with sea shells, void of any other footprints. The blue waters were cool and the gradual slope of the ocean floor extended far enough to go out and catch some of the biggest waves.  And when they were tired of sun and sand and surf, there was an amazing house, looking like it grew out of the vegetation, all rock and tile and treated wood, with a pool and satellite TV and lazy fans that stirred the cool air in the fully-stocked kitchen. The master bed was a teakwood carved beauty with posts that curled to the ceiling, soft downy mattress and pillows and glass that slid open to let the night breezes ruffle the mosquito netting and make it feel like sleeping right on the beach.

They’d done absolutely no work since they got here. At least once each day, the Hulk had frolicked in the waves, nearly emptying the pool when he cannonballed in it, digging a gigantic hole in the sand, clambering in and helping Clint bury him. He enjoyed himself, and let Bruce come back willingly when the fun was done. Bruce, for his part, was catching up on his own reading and viewing; he’d spent no more than three hours so far working on scientific problems – Clint had decided reading journals didn’t count as work, not when Bruce got so excited about the new ideas he found there.

“Black clouds,” Hulk pouted. “Again.” Clint looked and, sure enough, right on time, the 4 o’clock rain was rolling in. It would pour for maybe fifteen minutes, sometimes less, then be sunny and humid as if it had never happened. “Hulk cannonball before.”  He headed off towards the villa.

“Hey, no sand in the pool, Big Guy. Rinse off first.” Clint swung his legs over the chair and started gathering up the things that couldn’t get wet.

“Race back,” Hulk called behind him. “Clint shower too.”

“No fair, you’ve got a …” Clint’s brain ground to a halt as it sank in exactly what the Hulk had just said. “Wait.” He grabbed the bag and ran up the sand path, trying to catch up. What the hell? As far as Clint knew, the Hulk never called anyone by name. Natasha was Red, Tony was Metal Head, Thor was Goldilocks … he even called Bruce the Little Guy. Why would he start using Clint’s name instead of Cupid?

The pool was only steps down the sandy path, and the outdoor shower was already on by the time Clint got there. Made of natural stone from the island, like everything else here, the shower was luxurious overkill; open to the elements, there was a storage cabinet that held anything they might need – shampoo, gel, even lube and condoms that Tony probably ordered put there – and the multiple showerheads had enough pressure to wash away all the grittiness of the beach. One side backed into the jungle, foliage forming a dense wall.  Clint wove around the first wall, into the small dressing area, noticing the Hulk had left his trunks in a sodden heap on the ground.

“Did you just call me Clint?” he asked.

Bruce looked up at him, still a little dazed from the change; he had one hand curved around a stone on the wall, head hanging, water running down his naked body.  His other was lazily stroking his growing arousal, his eyes half-shut. At Clint’s words, he languidly lifted his head and gave Clint a sultry smile. “Interesting,” he said. “The Other Guy used your name?”

“Yeah, just tossed it off.” Clint shucked his wet trunks, hanging them on a hook as he stepped into the shower. “That was a fast shift. You okay?”

“I think he wants me to take care of this,” Bruce said with a chuckle. “He’s decided that’s my job.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s how he prefers it,” Clint said as he joined Bruce under the water. “It’s going to rain soon.” Clint put his thumbs in the dimples on Bruce’s back, at the bottom of his spine, spreading his hands until his fingers spanned around Bruce’s sides.

“Wet is wet,” Bruce answered, and he reached to shut off the water. “That’s on my list, you know. Making love with you in the rain.”

Clint bowed his head, resting his forehead on Bruce’s shoulder. “I can do that,” he murmured.

He pressed his thumbs into the muscles that ran long either side of the spine, sliding up the wet skin all the way to Bruce’s shoulders, fingers skating over shoulder blades before easing back again. Bruce’s breathing deepened with each long, smooth stroke as clouds blew across the sun, painting shadows across their bodies. Four counts up, pause at the top for a suspended moment then four counts back down, a little further each time. Clint lost himself in the slow motion, not noticing the time passing; lifting his head, he kissed the curve of Bruce’s neck as the first drops of rain pattered onto the green leaves. Clint’s hand tangled through the dark crisp hair on Bruce’s chest as he brought himself flush against Bruce’s back. For a moment, he just breathed in the scent that was uniquely Bruce; under the salty sea and afternoon sweat, there was a tang of the Big Guy mixed in.

“Clint? You okay?” Bruce asked when Clint stayed like that, just warmth and stillness.

“More than.” Clint smiled into Bruce’s skin. “You might want to put both hands on the wall.”

He stepped away long enough to get the bottle from the cabinet, spreading some over his fingers before he came back; as the rain began to fall steadily, he teased Bruce, bringing his own hardening cock along Bruce’s hip, rubbing lightly.  He opened Bruce up slowly, watching the drops of water on his back forming patterns as they rolled over the muscles and curves. Wind stirred the foliage and Clint eased his fingers in and out, no hurry to get to the end, committing the feel of Bruce to his memory, the taste of him beneath his lips as he kissed the line of muscle that ran up his neck, the sound of the hitches in his breath, the quiet moans as they both were drowning in the sensation. Bruce tilted his head back, face up towards the rain, as he begged Clint for more, wanting him to speed up, but Clint wanted something else, something different – to sync their pulses, make this about more than sex, becoming one in a new way.

“Please, Clint,” Bruce groaned, pushing his hips back to meet the three fingers that were moving inside of him. “I need you.” He turned his head, and Clint’s response was to capture Bruce’s mouth with his own, lips sliding across as he nipped at Bruce’s bottom lip.

“Patience is a virtue,” Clint answered, tongue slipping inside to stroke along the line of teeth and tangle with Bruce’s. He continued the delicious torment; fingers circling, crooking different ways, occasionally brushing against just the right spot that made Bruce winch and bite down on Clint’s lip. God, but Clint loved the way Bruce abandoned himself to the pleasure, losing his last measure of control, hips bucking even as he sucked Clint’s tongue deeper.

At some point, Clint knew he wouldn’t make it much longer, so he broke off kissing Bruce, took a second to slick himself and move into the right position, nudging his head against Bruce’s opening, making him widened his stance , spreading himself for Clint. Fingers resting on Bruce’s hip bones, holding steady, Clint pushed in, inch by inch, stopping between each forward movement, drawing out the pleasure for as long as he could; Bruce wiggled and thrust backwards until Clint was finally seated all the way in; he hugged an arm around Bruce’s chest, his brain reeling from the tight heat.  His emotions were so intense he could barely contain them, his usual ability to hide behind his carefully constructed mask of indifference stripped away by the trauma of the last week. Losing Bruce – even if it turned out not to be real – was too fresh in his mind, all the nagging doubt and guilt over what had happened cracking his stoic façade. He wanted to lose himself in this, the connection between them, to stay, never separated, always together – he’d take every second he could because every second could be their last.

“You going to sleep on me?” Bruce tried to make it sound lighthearted, but his voice waivered and Clint knew that he was feeling it too. The words did their job, however; Clint huffed out an exasperated sigh and wiggled his hips, the tiny shifts dragging a groan out of Bruce.

“Oh, now I’m going to go even slower,” he said, and he pulled out very slowly, waiting a few breaths before he eased back in, exhaling as he did. “Take you apart, bit by bit.” Inhale, slowly out, lay a string of kisses up Bruce’s shoulder blade, then back in, breath skipping across the beaded dots of rain painting tracks on Bruce’s skin. “Stay here, god, just stay.” Again, keeping a tight rein on his needs, smooth and deliberate, long pause between the thrust and retreat. “Have you, no hurry, keep you.” Shift, change the angle, and Bruce jerked, arching, the response making Clint fiercely satisfied, enough so that he did it again, measuring out pleasure in a gradual build. Even as the dark clouds passed, rays of sunlight cut through the rain, casting slats of bright and dark across them, the downpour at its height. Water ran down Clint’s face, drops falling off his nose, so he pulled Bruce closer, ducking his head down to taste Bruce’s skin, to suck little red circles along the shoulder and neck.

The storm couldn’t last long, spinning itself out as quickly as it sprang to life, and Clint couldn’t keep the slow pace in the face of both of their desires. Bruce was moaning his name, shaking as he held himself back from the brink; Clint’s fingers were pressing bruises into Bruce’s hip on one side, and his others chased the rain down until they wrapped around Bruce’s cock, stroking the sensitive skin, twisting lightly around the head, earning a sigh of pleasure from Bruce. Hand moved in concert with his thrusts as the rain began to taper off and Clint sped up, becoming more desperate. He knew the moment Bruce was ready, could felt the tensing of the muscles, the tight chords as Bruce’s head dropped back, his eyes squeezed shut; he called Clint’s name as he came, and Clint drove even harder, fast panting breaths with frantic plunges, Bruce clenching around him, wringing out Clint’s orgasm. The world went white, and Clint was lucidly clear in that moment, pushing out into that space where he floated, easy and sated.

“I love you,” he said, and he didn’t care anymore who knew or what people thought or did. He needed to say it, now, in the time they had. Wrapping his arms around Bruce, he collapsed against him; Bruce pushed away from the wall, balancing them, his hands sliding along Clint’s arms.

“Love you, too,” he replied, turning his head to kiss Clint’s temple where his head nestled in the crook of Bruce’s neck.

The last cloud blew back out to sea, drifting away as the drizzle faded, leaving only the South Pacific sun. Clint knew Bruce was giving him time, understanding the freshness of the pain that still haunted him. It was so like him that Clint should feel comforted, but he was beginning to worry about his own ability to bounce back; love, it seemed, made moving on harder. Finally, Bruce released his hold and turned, catching Clint in the circle of his arms where they could see each other.

“So, remember that Hindu Temple on the nearby island I was talking about? I thought we could head there tomorrow; they offer workshops and I sort of signed us up for one in the morning. Meditation.” His brown eyes were concerned, and the realization sunk in.

“Doc, I’m fine. If you want to visit, that’s okay with me, but I don’t need any chanting lessons.” He started to pull away, but Bruce stopped him.

“You’re not sleeping, not more than an hour or two at a time. I share a bed with you, Clint, I know, and you can’t go on like that. What I don’t know is if you’re still dreaming, but sometimes you get restless, murmur, shift around,” Bruce’s voice got serious.

“It’s still fresh. Give me time.” The last thing Clint wanted was more people poking around in his emotions; he’d had enough of the SHIELD psych visits already, probing into wounds that were still open and bleeding.  “I’m not … not as much anymore. My dreams are going back to normal, random images, weirdness .. you know the late for a meeting types are popping back up. For the most part.”

“But I have been dreaming.” Bruce’s admission surprised Clint. “Things are so jumbled. Moments of clarity – the briefing room, the three of us together – but then there are other things – caves and hallways and pain.”

“You’re remembering two sets of memories.”

“Or I want to. I don’t know.” Bruce shrugged, that way he had of dismissing his own needs, then he smiled again, hiding it all.  “Anyway, I also talked to them about an afternoon workshop in tantric practices. All of them private, just for us.”

“Um, delayed gratification tantric practices?” Clint raised an eyebrow; Bruce nodded. “I might be talked into it if I get some spicy noodles in the mix somewhere. Better sleep can’t hurt, after all.” If Bruce needed it, Clint would suffer through it. And who knew? Their sex life could only get better.

They cleaned up and puttered around, enjoying their time together to do nothing. Dinner was a delicious fish dish, curried and steamed, a nice bottle of wine and something decadently chocolate for desert; they ate on beach, then walked the island round as the sun sank below the horizon, talking about places to visit, food they’d eaten, books they’d read, picking up perfect shells to put on the porch. Later, as Clint lay in bed, the breeze from the ocean billowing the sheers at the edge of the open doors, the sand a white thread glimmering in the moonlight, Bruce threw his arm across Clint’s chest, his steady heartbeat soothing as Clint drifted off to sleep.

_“Papa! Watch me!”_

_Clint blinked, sun still bright despite his dark sunglasses, and squinted towards the surf; the little girl balanced on the Hulk’s shoulders, waving to get his attention._

_“Watch me!” She shouted again and then launched herself up, bending her knees and tucking them under her as she tumbled towards the incoming waves. As she came down, she landed nimbly on the Hulk’s outstretched hand, not even breaking the surface of the water, her face beaming with pride. “Did you see Daddy catch me?”_

_“That’s great, Becca. Be careful okay? You remember how it hurt when you fell off the stool, don’t you?”_

_“Oh, Papa, I’m not going to fall,” she pouted as she clambered back up to her perch again, the Hulk grinning widely._

_“She’s definitely your daughter, already jumping off of things,” Natasha said from beside him, her fair skin protected by the shade of a large umbrella; her eyes suddenly fixed on a point beyond Clint. “Katya! Do not torment James.”_

_Clint turned and saw the knot of children tussling in the sand, a castle half-built beside them. The smallest, brown haired and blue eyes, was a scrappy fighter; he took advantage of the distraction of the adults’ attention to steal a shovel from a bigger blonde haired  boy.  A pretty little red haired girl had her hand twisted in the blonde’s long hair, holding him back, working in tandem with the other._

_“Is it too much to ask for one minute of peace,” Jane asked Thor, obviously a philosophical question since neither of them moved to intervene._

_“Lunch is on,” Steve called from the veranda, the grill sizzling as he worked, putting burgers on the buns Darcy handed him. The kids immediately stopped fighting and ran, sand kicking up from their feet, jostling to be first in line._

_“I thought you were gone, Tessa,” Clint said to the woman standing next to him; she wore an eyelet sundress, bare feet wiggling in the sand._

_The Tesseract – Tessa – smiled, her big white sunglasses giving her a 1940s look. “Not completely. Residual energy. It will take a while to fade. But this is a dream. Yours to be precise. Something you want and think you can only have this way.”_

_“Trust me on this. There’s no happily ever after. Children? Too many enemies to protect against. Hell, a relationship is hard enough.” And there was always the looming specter of death to contend with._

_“Doesn’t mean you don’t want it. You just won’t let yourself. Too perfect. Like the first Matrix.” She caught Clint’s glance. “Yes, I’ve been catching up. The metaphors are quite deep and not mathematical at all.”_

_“That’s us. Symbols instead of formulas.” He laughed as Becca took a whole platter of burgers just for the Hulk. “Love violates the rules of science all the time.”_

_“Then there is truly nothing the three of you can’t do,” the Oracle said, placing a plate of cookies on the table. Bruce came up behind him, slid his arms around his waist and kissed him behind the ear._

_“She’s going to give me even more grey hairs,” he said as Becca bounced on the diving board, flipping twice before she cannonballed into the water._

_“Amen to that,” Tony agreed with a laugh. “Who the hell talked me into this again?” His gaze was following Steve as he helped the scrappy boy load up his plate._

_“I think it was your idea, Tony, if I remember right.” Bruce argued; Tony just grinned, his feelings evident in his eyes. Bruce picked up the plate of cookies and began to pass them around, handing one to Clint first. “Don’t worry, Clint. We’ll handle it together.”_

_Clint bit into the warm oatmeal raisin and immediately felt better_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes: the Tesseracts do become sentient in some of the Marvel Universes. One of them is in the hands of the Krull and becomes a nasty villain. There are also the Beyonders, who may or may not be where the energy of the original cosmic cubes come from. Mar-Vell becomes Captain Marvel for a bit -- his DNA is mixed with Carol Danvers in an explosion ... she then becomes Ms. Marvel, although she has taken the name Captain Marvel in the latest Marvel Now! series (a very good one I must say). 
> 
> Next story will be light-hearted and fun. Enough of the angst for a bit. But then back to it later.

**Author's Note:**

> Mr. Fish is a real Marvel villain ... from a Luke Cage comic.


End file.
